


beneath these sheets

by cheshirebottom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mystery, Older Harry, Punk Louis, Skins spin-off, aint givin no more hints old sport, but yeh you'll defo love this one right here, yep there's a mystery that needs to be solved so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirebottom/pseuds/cheshirebottom
Summary: louis doesn't do love; no, he finds that an utter absolute waste of time, and of space, and just everything in between, and you'll even see him sighing and rolling his eyes in despair. he's a full time asshole with no hopes of being something somehow, someday, you see. like, life is whatever to him.but just like any other cliches made, the next lines would be: that is until he gets to know the boy with the sad, glassy eyes, broad shoulders sagged most of the time and some tragic of a present walking under the sunny city of the degenerate part of los angeles, california.yes, i know, please, why don't you tell us more about it.note: written in lowercaseor the skins spin-off (kinda) au where halsey in the world of larry aus exists, zayn is fucking weird, everyone is always high, harry is the oldest character for once, and louis is the punk boy who doesn't do love.doesn't until he meets harry styles, tho, of course.





	1. // one god: the alleyways //

**Author's Note:**

> all ideas are mine. simply do not copy.
> 
> this fic is pure grunge and degenerative.
> 
> proceed with caution.

_**// sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise //** _

harry styles.

that's a name louis hears in a daily basis. he doesn't know what's up with it, or like, what's up with the dickheads that mention it, but that's just how it is now ever since. ever since a harry styles moved in to town, that is. louis just...really hears that name on a daily.

whatever.

the sun is high up in the sky, clouds absent just like they usually are in california, and louis is hanging out with the skaters of the alleyways.

they're in this place where there are benches, ramps, build tracks and jumps, the alleyways, basically.

or, well, a skate park to be more precise. this is where louis goes when he's in the mood for some alone time, despite he's with these other skaters too. just that, louis doesn't really speak to them anyway, not because they don't want to talk to him because they actually do and it's fucking annoying. but rather, because louis doesn't want to be disturbed. this is his alone time, everybody knows it, and these guys respect him enough to dare.

but back to subject of discussion, about the person who's about coming by.

harry styles; he is quite the popular.

he is quite the popular amongst guys, to be less vague. amongst these skaters louis gets to hang out with every single day, is the talk about whenever he strolls past their hide out with those gangly bambi-esque posture of his. which is pretty much every day as well.

louis doesn't know a single thing about harry styles. not his age, nor his job. not his likes nor dislikes, none.

or, except maybe for the fact he's got legs that don't seem to end, a long and dark curly hair that stops below his shoulders, eyes the color of the healthiest, virgin grass, lips so plump and the brightest shade of red, and lastly, his fashion that must've been pulled out from some 1960's romcom.

he wears boots that are sometimes gold and or sparkly, a shiny hologram pink that could be easily mistaken as lilac, and then his usual pick, the brown faded wedged. and that's just the footwear, you know? don't even get louis started with those floral sheer shirts and colorful headscarves atop harry styles' head. or perhaps the tightest pair of skinny jeans that they almost look like they're painted on, that harry styles wears like a mantra, that louis has ever laid his eyes on.

and, louis doesn't fucking know, hasn't an iota, that even though the skaters tease him, sexualize him whenever he passes by, harry styles still takes the same route everyday. like, why not just head a different path to go home, yeah? why does he have to endure being harassed by assholes?

tsk. whatever. here he comes anyway, and the heads of the douche bags one by one perk up at the sound of his footsteps.

hoots and wolf-whistles erupt. the jerks.

"baby, came by to see daddy?" one coos mockingly.

louis sighs at this, mentally cringing. he closes his eyes as he lies back down on the warm concrete ground, hours worth of skateboarding sweats forming across his forehead where he's wearing a snapback over his head. he's got his arms serving as pillows for the back of his head, his skateboard named delilah, sat horizontally next to his leg, just feeling the sun beating down over his lying figure.

_he's not here to see the aggravated look on harry styles' face because of these peasants..._

"i'm not your baby," harry styles' voice comes through. for the last three weeks that louis has heard his voice, once a day since then, as usual, it's low, deep, and a bit gravelly. like he's drawling...like he's too lazy to speak.

but mostly it's syrupy though. sweet? again, whatever.

"not," one asshole interjects, "yet." louis can almost hear the smirk that follows that connotation, and he's just so done with them.

opening his eyes, louis sits up and stretches his arms wide, feigning exhaustion as he lets out a fake yawn that soon enough becomes real. "aaahhhhhhhhh," goes his exaggerated release, and that's enough to steal everyone's attention and away from harry styles only if for a moment.

louis presses his lips together, clicks his tongue, as he looks around him, breaking into a sunny grin for all their staring eyes. "you total losers bore me with your pedophilic remarks, i demand a fucking refund."

"lou-"

"shut the fuck up, cunt," louis snaps, holding up a finger. he can feel harry styles looking at him, plausibly gawking, if the sound of his gasp is any indication. louis ignores it. snatching delilah on his side, louis stands up and dusts his black skinny jeans, kicking his legs and squaring his shoulders. skateboarding is fucking tiring, okay.

"you goin', mate?" one asks. louis doesn't answer that.

instead, he hops off the edge of the stone step and eyes the rest of them, seeing the patience etched across their faces. louis is like, their leader of the pack or something like that, so no one really tries to get on his way. he's like an alpha. yeah, that.

"i'm off," he announces after a beat, while he muses in his head as to why harry styles is still just standing there (when he purposefully distracted these motherfuckers so he can make his escape, tsk), flashing a two-finger salute, and then he's walking past everyone.

his and harry styles' eyes meet, only if for one second, and the only thing that louis notices is the darkness and the thickness of his eyelashes curling upwards over his green, green eyes...

(...overshadowing the sadness that is also written right across them.)

louis takes that image out of his mind.


	2. // two prudes: code red //

**_//a one night stand; don't belong to no city, don't belong to no man//_ **

 

at around 9:30 in the morning of a monday, louis pushes at the entrance door of code red and strolls inside with delilah nestled to his side, making the bell hooked atop the door ring soundly throughout the area.

he meets with the relaxing atmosphere of the air conditioned and truly spacious shop, some metal music playing to a minimum level in the background.

he sees the same multi-purpose cool shop with its skateboards all hanging on one slanted corner, boxes filled of stuff louis yet doesn't know - perhaps some wheels and other tools.

on one corner there are shelves specially for comic books of any kinds, even k-zones and mangas. on the center are aisles with neat alignments of vinyls and stacks of cds with headphones hooked to some, the certain lists one is allowed to listen to for free. and then there's a door on the other end, just right below the shelf of skateboards, with the neon sign that says guns & roses tattoo parlor.

a head from behind the counter snaps up as he nears, and louis is right away met by a pair of dashing hazel brown eyes framed by dark eyelashes, the owner of them being his ex-boyfriend slash best mate for three years now, zayn javaad malik. the brooding guy with the jet black hair and arms littered with tattoos just like louis himself.

"morning, lou," he greets eerily, voice thin as per usual, flashing those white pearls, lower lip decorated by a round piercing on the right corner.

snickering mentally to himself, louis deems out of nowhere not remembering a single time zayn's voice was ever that thin when he was fucking him into oblivion and he was groaning like a rabid animal.

but of course, that was in the past. louis and zayn are now just best friends, or more like, brothers from another mothers, something like that. zayn ended them, and louis was chill enough to just shrug and agree to his decision.  _i think i'm just gonna go find my true penguin._

 _penguin? what the fuck are you talking about, zaynie boy_ _?_  louis had laughed so hard, sex hazy and high with consumed marijuana.

 _penguin, lou_. zayn shook louis' arms, as if wanting him to wake the fuck up.  _it's like, your soulmate, yeh? because when penguins mate, they never leave their other halves anymore. it's like, their forever, ye know?_

louis had blinked at him, sobering up by the absurdity of it all. and then he pushed at zayn and straddled his hips.  _will you shut the fuck up? you're beautiful, baby, it's true, but fuck, you're also the fucking lamest, most cliché person ever_. and then he surged down, kissed zayn and shut him up for the last 5 hours as they fucked once again.

like, zayn is just...the weirdest weirdo louis has ever known in his life. and he's seen worse.

truth be told, he didn't love him like that - the whole sweetness and romance shit, because fuck no, louis doesn't do  _that_. louis loves zayn, of course he does, but only like he's his cousin or step brother or perhaps little sister. they were boyfriends before, but that only served as a label, since they fucked like rabbits at every chance they got back then, sex driven and young. but that was that.

zayn is the gentle type, the sentimentalist, the tiptoeing kind of person, so louis figured they needed something to somewhat seal the deal - for the two of them to have the authority and right to fuck. and it was for them to become "official". thus they became boyfriends.

they only lasted four months, however, before zayn had eventually realized that louis never loved him in a romantic way. he never took offence to that, thankfully, knew to himself that he was a good fuck, a warm hole to sedate, so he didn't blame louis for using him to release steam anytime he so pleased.

they don't fuck nowadays anymore though. it's been years.

"hey, babes," louis greets back, leaning against the platform and pecking zayn's forehead sloppily with a loud smack, rounding the counter and then dropping delilah at the corner. zayn smiles hazily, nodding his head.

they work together at code red, about a year ago now since they applied. they alternate being in charge on the till and serving walk-in customers, and then their boss, ed, is the one in charge for callers of deliveries. those calls don't come as often.

moments to his clock-in, louis finds himself later playing with his lip ring, as he chews at his bottom lip. he rummages through a couple of vinyls at one aisle and looks for the one their first costumer for the day is asking for. they said they wanted am by the arctic monkeys, so.

when louis finally sees it, a black vinyl with white obscure linings that briefly show a drawing of a ribbon, he fishes it out and inspects it before anything else.

he's got one vans clad foot perched on the three-step ladder left by the aisle they're in, and he's wearing his beanie today and then a loose gray tank top that he now regrets for wearing, since the ac is probably by 17 degrees and it's killing him, fuck.

anyway, he hands the album over to the guy who has their white tee and blue jeans on, curtly reminding louis of a lana del rey song, and then he watches them retreat back to the counter where zayn is now conversing to a few new kids that probably stepped in while he was busy back there.

by the looks of it, the kids are purchasing comics from zayn. he has a keen for nerdy stuff, this dude, and since ed is kind enough to let his shop be used for other business agendas, he lets zayn sell his own comics here, no problem.

"batman, spider-man, green lantern, you name it!" zayn chirps dazedly, voice languid as if he's high, which. probably. he's always high.

"i want superman."

"hey, i want superman too!"

"me, me! i want x-men!"

"yeah! professor x is the best!"

louis watches in peace as zayn lights up at the persistence of the kids crowding him by the counter - asking for the things he also like - can't help biting at his cheek at the happy look his half-pakistani friend is sporting. they both know it's not everyday that they wear genuine smiles and share hysterical laughter to others, considering they're a bunch of college drop-outs that are the outcasts of the town, and that now people see them as this - rebels.

which they're not, mind, seeing as louis still visits his mom and sisters and that he doesn't cause (much) trouble around the city.

they just like having lots of tattoos, smoke chain until four, get pierced every now and then, dye their hair different colors, get high whenever they could score (and that means every day), and live independently on their own, what's so wrong about that?

people can just go fuck themselves, to be honest. louis is fine being this way, thank you very much.

his life, his shit, don't like it? go suck a dick.

simple.

just as zayn's about done with serving the rest of the customers by the counter, it's only a matter of time then for louis to be greeting another batch that spills right at the door of code red, being a pretty much in-demand multipurpose shop and all. he mentally rolls his eyes.

as he looks up, louis sees students, giggling girls, an adolescent, and - a person. one who's wearing a green beanie atop their mop of curls, a hoodie above that, and is plausibly standing a solid five-foot-eleven given that he isn't wearing one of his silly boots today.

harry styles.

because of course, he goes here.  _of course_. louis takes a deep breath, shuffles towards the new customers.

"heya, welcome to code red. anything i can help you with?"

once again, blue meets green. louis isn't really affected by it.


	3. // three kings: rickety old bricked building //

**_//with your face all made up, living on a screen, low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline//_ **

 

harry styles didn't need his help back at code red. he only browsed some stuff, and then he was gone.

still, louis didn't miss the way his lips were turned upside down, the fact that the frown never left his face throughout, how he was donning bags under his sad, pale green eyes, and how thin he had been just after a few days.

louis wonders what's wrong with him; what could be the reason behind that devastated aura. louis thought that maybe it was the douche bags at the alleyways again that caused the forlorn look on his face, but. louis for now supposes he will give them the benefit of the doubt.

 _or better yet not give a fuck at all, because_.

well, because harry styles is nothing to him, right? like, fuck, whoever is anyway, aside from his family?

none.

**//**

having reached his rickety old bricked building (one that's probably about collapsing any moment now because of how old it is), passing by their landlord's room and two other more, where an old lady's always sat on a rocking chair while watching the evening news, and then a guy that's always drunk to his wits, louis stuffs his hand in the pocket of his black three-fourth jeans, and pulls out his keys.

he jammed the doorknob that needs a bit of push, before unlocking the door and urging it open.

immediately, he's met with the usual smoky, musky smell, with a hint of baby powder of his and his other best pal's shared apartment, said best pal being ashley frangipane better known as halsey, who's slouching on their brown, creaky old sofa, legs perched over their small coffee table with her book and pen in hand.

must be song writing, louis thinks sensibly.

she's this aspiring singer songwriter that yearns to record on a legit studio one day, louis' best friend who swears like a sailor, eats like a bulldozer (but never gains weight, the little fucker), and dyes her hair various colors more often than not, like she might run out of hair products in her possession, which, sheesh.

"hey, bitch." louis drops his keys in the yellow bowl they have over the shoe rack, toeing his vans off and heading for the kitchen counter that's already connected to the living area. what with this thing here being a small apartment and all, just two bedrooms and one bathroom, a little veranda that overlooks the degenerated side of the city.

psh. might as well just live at the fucking pink motel or some shit.

"oh, the walking dick is finally home," halsey drawls, only looking up for two short seconds to regard louis, before returning back to her song book.

america's next top model is playing softly on the idling television, just serving as white background noise. louis' itching to switch it off - she's consuming fucking electricity, and she's not even watching. fuck's sakes.

shaking his head, louis opens the mini fridge he and halsey have managed to get using their combined savings back in the fall, grabbing a can of beer for himself and then twisting the cap off. he takes a swig, and another one, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

he glances at halsey on the couch again, notices her long teal "mermaid hair" that is down tonight, falling past on either side of her shoulders, a white snapback on her head, wearing nothing else but some oversized black band shirt that reaches her lower thighs, and then some black patterned boxers that louis thinks is probably one of his. huh.

"writing songs again?" he asks casually, looking on his right and spotting a box of italian crust pizza.

"yep." she pops the p. louis pries the box and takes a slice.

"cool." he munches on the pizza.

a few more minutes.

halsey eventually lets go of her stuff and pushes them on the side of the sofa. louis watches with quiet chews as she fishes out her pipe, zippo lighter, and a tiny bag of...

louis swallows, takes another swig from his beer. he walks towards halsey, switches the tv off with a hard, annoyed thumb, and flops down next to her.

she raises an eyebrow at him. "care visiting the motherland, tomlinson?"

louis smirks. "thought you'd never ask."

**//**

and so they smoked weed until louis was seeing different shapes of floating bubbles in the air, staying steady in the low, cracks-filled ceilings of their low budgeted pad, those that changed colors every time they so much as transfigured, being at the back of his mind, meanwhile, appeared the haunting, confusing albeit alluring wide green eyes of that one man, that pair that was unblinkingly and... sadly staring right at him.

harry. fucking. styles.

seriously?

_again?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up with styles though?
> 
> feedback is always awesome :-)


	4. // four pills: graffiti littered skate park //

**_//dark as midnight sun, smoke as black as charcoal; fills into our fragile lungs//_ **

 

he keeps his focus on the ramp. he fights the urge to slow down and just flop down on the blazing ground. he isn't letting up. that shit's for the weak, so fuck that.

louis keeps his visions and sanity intact as he drags delilah forward, kicking at the concrete and letting himself push past the humid, crisp, sticky air.

the usual california weather. hot as fuck.

he's consumed weed again, right here, in his system. the stuff was brought by one of the skaters of the alleyways; louis doesn't care about their name.

well, louis was the first to take a drag - amongst the twenty or so of them here at the alleyways today - because, well, the guy calls him "boss louis", so.

 _so yeah_ , louis just shot them a lazy smile and had taken the offered blunt, nodding his gratitude in the least. it's a good herb, that. a bit tasty and...brisk. bitter but tolerable. as if it was just recently plucked and the like, ya know?  _blah blah blah_. louis' too lazy to think.

louis looks ahead, paying no mind about his tracks now but rather the rails that are approaching. he kicks on the ground once more and lets the sole of his black and red beat up vans grind against the sanded land. he flicks up delilah and brings her up with him on the thin air, landing seamlessly over the railing and dragging forward...faster forwards...ending up on the other side with a crunchy thump.

he hears applauding from the other skaters scattered around the colorful graffiti littered skate park. louis grabs delilah from under his feet as he wipes at the sweats building beneath his down fringe, preventing their attempt to trickle down his face. he meets with the other stoned boys like him by the filthy bench.

"that was fucking wicked, man!"

"yeah! how on fucking earth? in just a short span of time? fuck!"

louis shrugs at them, doesn't really know what to tell them, considering even he himself is clueless as to what they're blabbering about.

(or why they're even gushing about something so unsurprising, like, don't get louis wrong, he's not being cocky about this. it's just that - he's been skating since middle school, so it's only fucking natural that he's easy to learn new tricks every now and then, especially when skateboarding is just something that he can easily claim is running in his blood. like skateboarding is something he's born to do, something like...that. whatever.)

as he reaches, louis sits next to alvin. alvin whom he's not really close with. he knows all their name, these boys, only that he chooses to address them with something ugly and negative in his head, because why the fuck not? this is his point of view, okay. then again, he's kind when he's high, so this asshole shall be called by his real name for once.

so, alvin.

or calvin? oh fuck. louis' too high for this shit.

but fine, he'll try.

"pass the blunt, dude." martin xavier.

"where'd you fuckin' scored?"  _it's score. present tense. but okay, chris moore_.

"my cousin's friend. they've got a whole bunch, bro. twas fuckin' wicked." rick peters.

"like an entire garden?" france garry.

"yeah. they take care of 'em." rick.

"cool." that's louis tomlinson.

"no, tommo," john interjects. "more like,  _hot_." there's laughter, malice and mirth in his voice. ugh, that's never good. louis looks up.

and, just what he's expected. they spot those long legs again. the luscious...chocolaty curls. he's wearing brown faded boots today. some brimmed hat atop his head, blue gray knitted long sleeve for his lean torso, and then those... those black painted-on jeans.

louis wants to groan, because  _the fuck, harry styles, why here? you're not basking in the catcalling now, are you? fuck._

a couple of guys stand up, and louis has to keep a straight face now for this shit all the sudden, just to perhaps appear undeterred like he truly, truly is. because he simply doesn't care. fuck caring, fuck feelings.

he's a heartless git, he is.

tyrone, kit, vince and john get to where harry styles is and louis watches on from where he's sat on the ground how they stop the older man from his once-peaceful-trekking. tsk.

"hey, babes," one  _asshole_ purrs. he disgusts louis.

"stop it," comes harry styles' slow, deep, annoyed drawl.

"ooh, feisty," another shithead coos mockingly, letting out sardonic laughter. "me gusta."

"fuck off." harry styles dares to move, tries to push past the four guys, but to no avail. louis hears some hazy chuckles from the rest of the alleyways. they're clearly enjoying this.

louis swallows, sighing internally as he looks up at the sky and then back again just in time to see -

\- one fucker reaches out and - fuck. he touches the curls.

fuck. alright, that's it. louis jumps up, drawing attention from half their bunch, and then he talks loudly to wholly distract, "it's so fucking boring here! fuck!" he laughs, bordering on maniacal and hysterical. "fuck this shite, eh? oi! monkeys!" he points at the four that are cornering the tall man. "you motherfuckers done being creepy there?"

louis can feel harry styles' wide, pleading eyes zeroing on him. he doesn't let it get to him. instead he snatches delilah and flashes her up in the air.

"why, tommo? wanna join the party?"  _a malicious smirk on their face._

louis laughs loudly, making a show of throwing his head back, completely ridiculed. "no, you fucking loser! i say get back in here and beat me at kick flips! y'all are weak asses, jesus fucking  _christ_."

"that can wait, man," one reasons with a chuckle, already turning back to long legs, "for now -"

"this  _can't_  - fucking - wait, john," louis hastens to cut in, voice low and darker now, seething subtly through gritted teeth. he quickly quirks up the corner of his lips to appear smiling, but really, he's mostly just feeling pissed - pissed that once again he's witnessing sexism play out before his eyes.

time passes.

**//**

harry styles eventually manages to make louis look at him.

sadness in his eyes. hatred. fear...

adoration?

louis closes his owns as he takes a deep breath, opens them again. "you," he addresses harry styles with a tip of his chin. "walk away now. just go."

harry styles just stands there, doesn't say a word to anyone - to him. his pointed stare falters just a tad, hard gaze easing, and then he's being given way by the rowdy skater boys in front of him.

**//**

louis lets out a loud, dragged and tired sigh. closes his eyes again. opens them.

harry styles is gone.

 _good_ , thinks louis.


	5. // five pounds: yellow post lamp //

**_//we'll be looking for sunlight, or the headlights, till our wide eyes burn blind//_ **

 

thursday.

louis hums to himself as another kid comes up to him. they're his seventh to eighth customer for today, and they're asking for some new tracks for their skateboard.

"some piece of shit stole 'em while i was passed out on my friend's."

louis hops off the three-stepped ladder he's been sitting at and wasting time, and goes over a couple of tore opened boxes that contain some new "sick" wheels for skateboards.  _'_ _kay, well. i gotchu, bro._

he shows some to the kid, prompting which is better and which will look good. the kid is so amused and louis grins at him, cocking his pierced brow. "want them?"

the kid looks at him in awe, holding the aquamarine wheels in his hands. "hell yes," he exhales.

louis smirks as he ruffles his hair, grabbing on two pairs of the same wheels from the box, and then goes over the counter. he drops the stuff in front of zayn, who is flipping through an ant man comic book. "punch this in, baby vogue."

"sweet," zayn whistles. he starts punching them in, the kid bouncing on the balls of their feet, as they lean up the counter. louis goes back to where the adele albums are piled up, after the kid has got their purchase in a paper bag.

he kills time being alone to himself, just texting lottie about some...stuff.

**//**

louis is bored.

louis is exhausted just by standing. by existing.

and so louis pads toward the counter and sneaks under the folding door; he changes the music to some troye sivan's song, because they're his new favourite at the moment, most especially when he's heard the news about their expected coming out.

it's quite obvious, louis isn't surprised, but he still felt pride over the bravery since he too belonged to the lgbtqia+ community.

the bell dings later, and in came another customer. louis makes to take a turn and perhaps greet them, but once he's facing the front, the person has already had their back on him and is going toward some vinyls at the middle of the shop.

louis looks over at zayn and zayn only shrugs. louis watches the harry styles - with, as per usual, the long, curly hair, wearing yet the tightest jeans louis has seen worn on someone - their top being some sheer floral long sleeves, and then lastly their footwear being some pink shiny, shimmery, sparkly boots.  _boots, boots, boots_.

if he's being downright honest, louis finds this person quite interesting. his eyes tell quite a whole different story in opposed to his fashion choice - the fucking sad eyes, the obscure tilt to his lips, the furrowed brows he's always worn, which, who wouldn't be intrigued in that? can you fucking blame louis?

but like. obviously, louis won't dare prying in. he's not the gossipy ...  _oh fucking hell, he's not the gossipy type, okay?! like ¿??¿ asfhdlalshxnsid_

fuck. whatever. harry styles is quick to leave the area anyway - after listening in for free and skimming through a couple of cds.

the bell chimes again.

"yo!"

louis snaps his head up and directs his gaze toward the door.

"oh. hals."

zayn looks up as well. "what a pleasant surprise, miss frangipane," he greets mildly. too softly, too eerily, too...warmly?

"zen," halsey chirps, waving at zayn dismissively, passing by a couple of aisles and heading only toward the tattoo parlor at the back of the shop, the door closing behind her. louis and zayn share a look, shrug in sync and go back to what they're doing.

halsey also leaves after ten or so minutes. she just booked an appointment for a tattoo session, it seems. louis is quite envious then. it's been a while since his last ink, and he kinda wants a new one now somewhere on his legs...or ankles?

okay. ankle. an empty triangle. an outline. he's queer.

**//**

louis clocks out.

he decides to head to the park for another alone time before he goes home, since halsey has texted she's gonna be inviting someone over and louis would rather smell pollution than breathe in unprotected sex.

the moon is high up in the nightsky, stars twinkling so beautifully scattered around it, some from miles and miles on end, white mists accentuating the navy blues, and louis is skating his way to alleyways, air breeze cool against his cheeks. he adjusts his maroon beanie from atop his head.

post lamps light up his town, busy streets filled with poker faced pedestrians and vehicles, bike messengers trying to race him along the pavement with delilah's red wheels hot from beneath. louis manages to hit the curb faster than them, ducking away from limbs of walking people and move past manholes, drifting to a corner and kicking at a stone.

zayn has left earlier than him, bringing cyclops (his skateboard), said he's going to his mother's for a family dinner. but louis has a hunch he's getting laid tonight though - he saw that message from someone with the name... neil?

naial. something like that. and the message has indicated that - not to be blunt - they wanted to fuck zayn. and zayn was like this high school girl with a fucking puppy love affair.

louis wonders when will zayn have the initiative to introduce the guy to him. since, like, they're best friends.

he rolls his eyes mentally, turning a corner, and -

"whoa, shit," he breathes out, screeching to a quick halt, hitting the asphalt and unhooking delilah from underneath his soles, flexibility reigning as he clutches at her peak.

\- he's bumped with harry styles.

 _because of fucking course_.

his eyes are blinking back at him under the yellow post lamp, usually greens looking like golds, mouth hanging open just a crack as if he's stunned, curly strands of hair falling softly down his cheek.

no one utters out a word. louis blinks back at him too.

and then, a beat - heartbeats - white noise filling his ears.

passersby nudge his arms but louis doesn't budge, even headlights flashing in his eyes but he doesn't see those, if just for this instance; and until those gold speckled eyes avert somewhere else though, body turning away from him, that louis finally blinks back to the now.

streets noise fills his momentarily deaf ears again, the honks, the yelling and the abrupt drifting. he can hear random folks huffing in annoyance now, because he's blocking their way and they hate it, irritate them.  _well, they can go fuck themselves_ _._

just as harry styles walks past him completely, louis at last minute gets to get a whiff of the man's scent, and he thinks he smells rather heavenly.

like violets and lilies combined, fresh sakura flower or perhaps cinnamon pastries. they head separate ways.

**\---**

**loving the fic so far?**

**this chapter is dedicated to** **[Larrys_youth](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Larrys_youth)**  and [coronarykiller](https://www.wattpad.com/user/coronarykiller) **bc they cute**


	6. // six stallions: four cornered bedroom //

**_//we're the underdogs in this world alone, i'm a believer, got a fever running through my bones; we're the alley cats and they can throw their stones; they can break our hearts, they won't take our souls//_ **

 

he can hear singing and humming from the other room. strumming of a guitar and tapping against wood. louis wakes up to a halsey singing and song writing, and when he opens his eyes for the first time, the first thing that greets him is the beige colored ceilings that are cracked at the edges, and the lousy ceiling fan that can barely even offer cool air.

he blows out a sigh. and he sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes to adjust his vision to his surroundings.

he looks around his small, four cornered bedroom, sees mills of aging posters of various bands taped all over his black walls, delilah pushed under his plastic desk, sand paper looking quite torn at the terms. he sees some of his shirts, all dark and dull - blacks, grays, dirty whites and maroons - chucked haphazardly across his linoleum floor, together with some vegan stickers zayn keeps on giving him.

he thinks idly maybe he needs to sort his shit and be a good bedroom owner for once...

or not. he's feeling lazy :-)

louis drops his feet on the floor, stretching his arms and popping some bones, cracking joint and all that jazz, then he stands up, scratching at his tummy before shoving his hand in his alien patterned boxer shorts, also scratching at the itty bit of itch on his balls. (don't tell anyone louis does this; he just sometimes like having a feel of his pubes.)

what? he's  _human_.

stepping outside of his room, louis succumbs to the melancholic slash dark tunes of what halsey is playing on their stereo, playing and pausing it from time to time, and then writing something to her song book.

"morning," he greets, voice husky and gravelly even to his own ears. he smoke chained again last night, when he sat to kill time at alleyways, and his throat hurts like a motherfucker, feeling hot and itchy.

she looks up and meets his eyes, wiggling her brows in faint acknowledgement. she's got her black hoodie on with nothing else, then some pink boxer shorts, hair a complete mess. seems like the blue greens of it is fading now. "hey, morning. got some coffee in the cupboard, help yourself some."

"cool. thanks."

louis heads to the bathroom first, washing his face over the sink and staring at his blurry reflection on the old and dirty and fucking gross vanity mirror. he lets out a tired sigh.  _louis should probably buy a new mirror for this shithole of a bathroom._

(everything is shit here. why?!)

despite the poor garnered reflection of himself, louis still inspects his face on it, angling his face and touching his lip ring, poking on it with the hood of his tongue, tasting warm metal. he switches the faucet on again and takes a scoop of some water, and then sprinkles some on his hair. he ruffles it, shaking his head with the movement, and then brushes it up and into a messy quiff.

louis brushes his teeth next, and then he's pissing, leaving the bathroom afterwards to make himself some hot black coffee.

time to go to work.

**//**

he goes to work with delilah as his only ever companion - as per usual. he skates, smoothly and fast, jumping on pavements and pissing off some office workers in the process, considering it's a morning rush and everyone's trekking and heading to attend their jobs.

well. louis is too, so they should just suck it up, yeah? they're not the only hard workers here, thank you a fucking bunch.

psh. stupid society and their stereotypical judgements. they annoy louis. they're so fucked up.

_stupid kids._

_watch out, moron!_

_hey! you almost ran me over, you fucking asshole!_

_you good-for-nothing piece of_  - the person cut itself off when louis had turned to glare.

and. okay, fuck you. just. fuck all of you!, louis had wanted to shout. he didn't.

see, just because.  _just be-fucking-cause_ louis looks like a rapist or some other shit these motherfuckers are thinking of him, a drug user or much worse a drug pusher, still, he's got a decent job that he goes to everyday just so he can survive this hell of a life he's living.  _much like them_ _._

he's got to feed himself here. he's got to  _live_ , and not just exist. he's got to work his ass, pay some bills, buy stuff, make money,  _he has got to live_.

 _and so_ , unlike them who gets to ride trains to work, or cabs or bike their way there, louis can only leave it all to delilah, because he's got no budget for a fucking oyster card, you see? none. all he has is his skateboard. therefore, if he's almost ran you over,  _you just have to deal with it_ , or you and louis will have a fist fight and you will lose, step in to work with a broken nose.

or neck.

louis hates society.

(it's sad that he's part of said society.)

**//**

zayn is already at code red when he barges in, familiar scent of stacks of vinyls and cds and the cool breeze of the air conditioner washing over him. some punk goes pop cover style of chandelier, originally by sia is playing loudly in the area, and louis quickly recognizes the band being pvris. he loves them.

"hello, loueh," zayn greets, a large grin on his face, cheeks pink and eyes so bright. louis thinks smugly,  _confirmed_ ; he surely has been fucked last night.

"hullo, malik. you seem happy, princess," he notes, nodding at him passively albeit with a similar large grin to show off, which, he prolly looks quite a faker by doing it. he doesn't care if.

on his periphery, he catches zayn blush. "i - i am. yeah."

a stammering zayn malik. hmm. that's news.

"well," louis sighs, dramatically just to appease, getting behind the counter and letting delilah stand vertically on the ground; he puts a hand on zayn's shoulder when he stands straight up and faces him, "whatever it is, z, i'm happy for you, yeh?"

his friend nods, flabbergasted at best, and louis just - he can't help snicker internally.  _zayn is so fucked_. just as he's about hugging zayn, it's in that moment that the bell dings indicating a person stepping inside the shop. louis and zayn both look over, and then there's harry styles.

not in his usual attire, he's wearing something rather disorganized. loose white tee with ripped fabric on the neckline, then some mustard colored joggers and a pair of slippers. he's got his hair up in a bun, and he's got some black raybans brushed atop his head.

he glances over where louis and zayn are as well, and for a split moment there, his and louis' eyes lock.

louis doesn't know why but. his stomach suddenly warms and he thinks there's something that's fluttering wildly in it too. the fuck...

when harry styles averts his gaze away from him, louis doesn't react. instead he proceeds to sifting through the ipod that's already hooked on the speakers and tries to spot paramore. he misses hayley williams' wicked awesome vocals.

**//**

louis closes his eyes, lies on his back against the reclining chair, and just holds on to the armrest like his life depends on it.

he's having a new tattoo on his ankle right now, because he's a random minute decider, just right at the back of code red (inside guns and roses pretty much), and it's jesy who's got the task at hand upon inking him. he trusts her.

what he has picked to have, just like what he's found out in the books in regards to its meanings, is a triangle shape just in simple outlines. no other fuzzes, no other artsy touch into it, just three black lines connecting to create a triangular shape.

louis thinks it's perfect, see. the meaning behind it, the look of it on his skin, the minimalism - simplicity.

his personality.

his sexual orientation most importantly, because.

because.

he may or may not be attracted to harry styles.

maybe. possibly.

 


	7. // seven cathartics: bustling crowded city //

**_//i paced around for hours, on empty, i jumped at the slightest of sounds; and i couldn't stand the person inside me, i turned all the mirrors around//_ **

 

he stares at his friend locking lips with another girl before him. red and black lipsticks smudging and mashing together, spit smattering everywhere along their chins and snouts, their cheeks flushed and eyelids heavy and down, the like.

it's messy; rushed. and maybe a bit (whole lot) gross?

louis never would've thought that one day as he smoked blunt he would witness something as bold as this. like, two girls making out face to face with him, happening live and all that. he can even hear sound effects, like slick noises produced by wet tongue entangling, and some popping of lips letting go just to collide once again.

it's fucking obscene. louis doesn't know what to do with himself being in the same space as them - doesn't know what to do with such  _show_ they're giving.

and, he isn't sure if he should watch further or... or.

regardless, louis is quite sure about something - he's not getting turned on by this. it's just...disturbing, to be frank.

like, despite this is halsey and, well, fuck but, louis begs to be real, she's truly hot. and so is her friend, effy stonem, but.

louis just ends up screwing his eyes shut, tries hard to tune in to the spongebob cartoon show that's also playing softly in the background, there on their jvc brand television, takes another long drag out of the pipe he's yet gripping loosely in his hand, and then puffing off remnants of carbon. he really doesn't find their tongue-fucking arousing.

but maybe... if he thinks about that certain person... he and louis actually fucking, the whole sexing and all...

 _blergh_. he shakes his head to vanish away any and all creeping in images of endless legs and lean back, luscious curls and those green, green, green, green, green -  _poof_.

none of that.

just another drag. and another. last one, until he's majorly, royally fucked.

he sees red, he sees blue, he sees purple and pink. he sees white, and then black. then he sees halsey, and she's going down on effy, the raven-haired girl lying on her back and tugging at her top to pull it over her head, revealing her hot pink bra and flat stomach with abs, and...

the last thing that louis gets a view of as he lets unconsciousness take over his entire system is halsey and effy snapping their fingers at him and, vaguely, halsey slapping his cheek.

ouch.

**//**

green eyes stare hazily back at him. they don't blink, don't roll, don't...flick elsewhere.

they've got long eyelashes framing them, making them seem the more ethereal - lively. they're sparkling. they've got glints around their pupils, round orbs bright and evergreen.

they aren't dilated. they sport gold speckles in them.

they look purely innocent.

their owner seems hurt.

their owner goes away.

_just a sweet, cryptic dream in the middle of a bustling crowded city._

**//**

fucking harry styles is haunting his dreams again.

**//**

louis wakes up and it's half past nine in the evening. he's overslept, which sucks, although luckily for him it's a saturday and that he's got his one of two offs from work.

rubbing on his temples - that are mildly throbbing due to whatever - louis squints his eyes over the sudden brightness, as he roams them around the room he's in, wanting to learn whether he's moved in his bed or summat.

it's turned out he didn't make it anywhere else besides the exact same spot where he's last closed his eyes, at the living room. he's still sat on the sofa, head bent against the headrest and he's - fuck, he's drooling. he wipes at the corner of his lips with the back of his hand, letting out a yawn and then looking at his left.

halsey nor effy isn't in the area then, but, wait.

louis smells some distinct scent of... dyeing product? he snorts involuntarily, the thought of halsey dyeing her hair for the umpteenth time coming into mind in quick strides.

that loon. can't make up her mind as to what color will she settle to for the long term. does she really want her head shaved as its impending end game? her hair has gone so fried over the months, jesus christ.

shaking his head, louis gets up off the couch and looks down on himself. he's been wearing his black vans off the wall shirt since this morning, and he's still in his last night's black washed skinny jeans, barefooted and smelling of weed and cigarettes. even the deodorant he was wearing has long worn off. perhaps he needs to hit the shower now at this rate.

or not...?

he sniffs himself.

 _right_.

louis goes over the bathroom and flicks the light on, heading towards the - whoa,  _hold a fucking minute_. louis backs away slowly, stops at the mirror, and -

his eyes widen; as large as pin balls. they -

_what did they do to his fucking hair?!_

louis blinks rapidly at his reflection on the vanity mirror, trying to let sink in the fact that his hair isn't in its usual brunette color anymore. rather, it's a fucking  _silver_ color and - what the fuck did they do to his hair @#$%&*!!!!!!!!

oh, ho ho ho! louis shakes his head, laughing sardonically. what was ashley even thinking? that louis doesn't know where she fucking sleeps at night?

fuck, no. NO. no no, they are so gonna  _die_ _!_

they are already dead!

they are,  _so, so, so_ -

**//**

although.

**//**

louis blinks at his reflection once (some) more, drinking in the dishevelled look of his hair, his spiky fringe and the swept style it's sporting, some brushed up in the middle top...

hmm. it's...actually not that bad. for one, his blue eyes  _popped_. like, literally. they are quite the starks against his normal, darker roots, with the silver, blue metallic strands freshly dyed at the ends. like some ombre style.

louis looks at himself at a whole.

should he still kill ashley in her sleep?

a.) yes b.) yes c.) yes or d.) all of the above.

d. √

**//**

"you little shit," he spits - as a form of greeting once halsey steps inside their apartment, after quite some time - after louis' done showering and changing into some dark gray trackies and his white adidas hoodie, hands shoved in the pockets of them. he's got his newly dyed hair in a brushed up style, hair spray keeping them in place and preventing small strands to block his eyes.

he's glaring at halsey by the doorstep, the girl in her leather jacket and white shirt, blue jeans and green converse looking at him like she's done nothing at all. louis must admit she's hella good with acting rather nonplussed and painstakingly innocent, brows neither arching nor knotting. louis hates it. the little  _brat_.

"well, well, well," she muses, looking him up and down, traipsing forwards with her hands on each her hips, a smug look on her face. "mr. handsome has finally awaken, i see."

"mr. handsome my fucking ass, ashley," he bites harshly, gritting his teeth in actual rage. he bolts right up, "just what the  _fuck_ did you do to my hair, huh?"

shocked, like, genuinely shocked (probably with louis addressing her by her birth name), halsey the bitch is quick to get towards louis and cup his face in her hands. "lou," she says, voice soft. louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. at least she's apologetic. "i'm sorry, baby, i'm so, so sorry. it's just. me and effy got carried away, yeah? like. like we. i - i mean. we made a decision of pulling a dick move on something,  _someone_ , and - and you were like, passed out so - we just thought it'd be funny to - shit, lou, i'm fucking sorry. here, let me -," she looks at the door to her bedroom, looking panicky and anxious, "- here, let me dye it back to-"

louis pries halsey's hands off his face, and that has made her instantly shut up. she looks at him, hopeful facial expression and everything. "whatever, hals," louis murmurs with a sigh, sitting back down on the sofa. "just maybe..." he looks up to meet her (stupid fucking puppy) eyes. "you owe me, okay?"

quicker than one can say you suck, halsey nods vigorously.

and then. "ice cream?"

"choco mint chip?"

"hell yes."

"kk, deal."

**//**

louis licks at his sundae happily, quite contently, as he stands beside halsey in a particular aisle in a 24/7 convenience store. there are only a few people here tonight, maybe around nine or ten, and louis is only a little conscious with his new look.

but he thinks he'll get over it.

anyway.

while they were at it, halsey had thought it'd be pretty wise if they bought some other stuff for some other days as well, like perhaps beers in can and or sodas, something to munch on while tuning in to some tv show, so thus they're in the snacks area, surrounded by heaps of gummy bear packets and skittles, potato chips, barbeque chips, lays, pringles, v cuts, etcetera.

louis is only waiting for halsey to take whatever, he's got no budget for such at the mo.

moments in, just as he's about emptying his cup, louis' attention is pulled away and onto something that's marginally - melodic.

a melody.

someone's singing on the other side of the aisle.

as if they've read each other's mind, he and halsey share a  _look_ , because wowza. nicenicenice voice.

quickly, they make the beeline to the other end of the aisle just so they can take a turn to their left and see who it is, and  _theyseeit'sharrystyles_.

"pretty." louis hears halsey mutter in awe next to him, and louis can't help biting on the inside of his cheek, doesn't want to say ditto. he knows she doesn't know harry styles, but louis does, and louis isn't telling her that. nope.

anywho.

harry styles is singing use somebody by the kings of leon, just under his breath, but his falsetto is there - his deep drawl relishing. and, he sounds so freaking angelic, is the thing. just like his face. cherubic.

his lips shaped like a cupid's bow.

(his scent the other day heavenly.) (everything god-related stuff?) (odd.)

a few seconds delay. "you think?" louis asks, voice barely audible.

halsey looks at him, and their faces are so near louis is forced to cross his eyes just so he can see her semi-properly. "duh. don't you have eyes, loueh?"

he cocks a brow. "i do, actually," he says matter-of-factly.

she gives him the 'okay, so, well' look, and he only shrugs, before turning back to gazing at harry styles again, who's -

looking back at them. louis witnesses as his eyes turn comically wide and. he looks startled. why.

titling his head to the side, louis notices the man's cheeks turning beet red in seconds flat (he's not singing anymore) and then he's grabbing on some bottles of vinegar and soy sauce, looking away  _and_ rushing away, heading for the counter with his stuff and fast.

he exits, louis catches with his own eyes.

lol. what just happened.

"what just happened?" halsey mumbles next to him.

he glares at her, turning away. "beats me."

 


	8. // eight galleons: rusty narrow veranda //

**_//you can't wake up, this is not a dream, you're part of a machine, you are not a human being//_ **

 

"what the duck," are the first few things that come out of zayn who thinks he's the shit malik's pink mouth once louis shows up at work on a rainy monday.

he drops delilah with a  _plonk_ on the red tiled floor, and steps on her sandpaper body, kicking a bit against the marble and making his way over the counter smoothly. he holds out a hand, and zayn is quick to slap it. "yeh, yeh. good morning to you too, princess," he mutters lazily.

even as he's ducking his head down to get under the folding door with delilah still getting driven under his blue adidas shoes, louis can still feel zayn burning holes with his eyes that are gazing at his hair, and he's just so over the 5 stages of grief now that he only flashes him a crooked grin and a wiggle of his brows.

"ashley frangipane," they state in unison, and louis follows that with a single, happy nod. "yep. that fucker is the culprit. yep."

"but," zayn says, momentarily scratching at his top bun, half of his hair down, "you look so, so nice though, like. handsome, lou. why would halsey be a culprit?"

louis shrugs. "didn't ask for my permission. i was high on drugs and she and her fuck buddy decided that i'd love a fucking new look, so alas."

"sick."

"tell me 'bout it." he sighs, dropping his cheek on his palm with his elbow leaned over the counter.

**//**

raindrops fall lightly like flyleaf atop his metallic blue hair, making him bow his head down a fraction more to avoid having some against his cheeks. luckily enough for him there's only a few though, seeing as his back is pressed loosely against the glass wall of code red as he stands outside along the pavement, and that the shop itself has a little shade surrounding its upper bricked walls, thus the rest of his outfit are saved.

if partially.

it's his break time, 2:33 pm painted idly on the digital clock, and louis has chosen this moment to smoke while he waits for his time to go back inside. he doesn't need a reason for it, it's just that.

...he kinda sorta misses lottie, felicite and johannah.

and phoebe and daisy and doris and ernest. and, maybe he should give them all a call later.

"yeh, you should."

louis perks up,  _huh?,_ and then there's zayn, already lighting up a stick and taking the empty spot next to him.

louis cocks an eyebrow. "are you some kind of a mind reader? those were thoughts running inside my head."

zayn looks at him, eyes widening slowly as he leans close, their noses brushing just a breath away. "i don't know, lou. am i?"

"weirdo." he looks away.

zayn giggles, taking a drag of his cigarette. "you love me."

louis: *thinks about someone else entirely* please.

zayn: admit it.

louis: *thinks about xxxxx xxxxxx* fuck off.

zayn: *grins cheekily*

louis: why are we talking in subtitles again?

zayn: idk tbh. lmao. aha :) x

**//**

due to the unfaltering rainy weather all day so far (one that started since this morning), code red has rather been slow on the sells and the customers, the hard pelts of rain casted to be such ultimate cockblockers. louis thinks ed will flip shit tonight.

the streets are wet, cobblestones shiny and dark with rainwater, small puddles present everywhere, and there are a couple of carton boxes from large fed ex deliveries cut out and set over the entrance door, serving as doormats for wet soled shoes to spill in.

they're yet half soaked; just another evident of a least festive, slow day.

louis is sat on the floor for almost an hour now, his chosen spot being nearby some two door cinema club cds and piles of new unopened boxes filled with skateboard screws, the hood of his black jacket pulled up above his head, one hand shoved in one of its pockets. he's looking down and he's got his earphones stuck to each his ears, busily scrolling through his horny playlist on his android phone.

partition - beyoncé  
do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys  
fourfiveseconds - drake, kanye, rihanna  
daddy issues - the neighbourhood  
sex - the 1975  
gods & monsters - lana del rey  
wet the bed - chris brown  
birthday sex - jeremih  
the hills - the weeknd  
i wanna fuck you - akon  
....  
...  
..  
.

hmm. he taps play shuffle.

he closes his eyes after that, releasing a long sigh, leaning back on the rack and feeling quite uncomfortable with its awkward angles, but he doesn't really mind much. he just wants to have this moment, have a bit of nap or something.

despite his eyelids being down and his napping bordering on deep, deeper, almost falling into a slumber well, still, louis can make out of the dim lighting of the breezy shop, making it a little harder for him to actually drown everything out so he can let sleep swallow him up, every movement surrounding his figure against the stacks serving as intangible distractions.

louis sniffs, scrunching up his nose. he's hearing chris brown croon coolly about going down on some faceless woman in his ears, describing how someone's pussy (excuse louis' dirty mouth) is so wet for him and how he likes that, enjoys licking them clean - and then there's suddenly some shadow blocking the fluorescent light above louis, which means someone's looming over his lying self on the ground and well, who the fuck.

he dares one eye fight the sting of the expected first burns of the brightness of the shop.

and, right about his assumption, there indeed is someone that's standing just a few steps away from him. like. maybe two steps? he looks up, finally opening both eyes now.

his brain is quick to function: long curls, white rolling stones tee that's folded at the sleeves - making biceps bulge and some tattoos peek out - black skinny jeans and brown boots.

again, pert bum.

harry styles.

FUCKING HARRY STYLES.

okay, that's it.

standing up, louis pulls off the buds in his ears and tunes out fucking chris brown, unplugging them from his phone and stuffing it back in his back pocket. he shifts from one foot to another, putting all weight on one leg, as he angles his body sideways, hands clasped on his back.

louis tries to look over harry styles' shoulder (he has his back faced to louis, pretty much) to see what he's looking at, but the guy is like, five inches taller than him though - only because of his freaking heeled boots, yeh? >:( - so it's to no fucking avail.

he refrains from exasperating right there and then. he clears his throat instead.

(louis kinda wants to give himself a pat on the back for being...for being...he doesn't really know either, to be honest. do you?)

lean back stiffening, louis watches harry styles, as if they're in some cliché romantic movie, turn around in an epic slow motion, long strands of soft curls bouncing and swaying along with his movement, and until he's briefly falling into a curt stop that his and louis' eyes are once again locking on each other.

louis takes in the fact that harry styles really is - definitely - absolutely - totally - beyond any doubt - categorically - clearly - decidedly - doubtlessly - easily - explicitly - expressly - far and away -  indubitably - no ifs ands or buts about it - plainly - positively - surely - undeniably - unequivocally - unmistakably - unquestionably - without doubt - without fail - hahathisisfun - whatelse? - ohyesright - without question,  _beautiful_.

no wonder he's everyone's attempt at a fuck at alleyways. those dickheads there.

well. whatever. it's time to say hello.

"hello."

as if they really are in some romcom, harry styles with his wide bambi eyes opens his mouth to - speak? - and then closes it. opens it. closes it. opens it, and - no words come out. harry styles' cheeks are a bright magenta, eyes unblinkling and lips so pink, neckline flushed and so are his delicate collarbones.

"i - uhm. i -," harry styles stammers. in a second, he's whipping back around and ambling towards the door. in another second, he's gone.

louis is so, so, so, so...lost.

why is he like that :( the fuck :(

does louis have bad breath? shit.

**//**

back at their apartment later, louis lies on his back across the hardwood floor of their living room and stares up at the ugly as fuck ceiling, can vaguely see sliver of tanned leg hung above the coffee table next to his face, overlapping.

it's halsey's. of course it's hers. louis has his fingers intertwined together resting lightly over his stomach.

"hey, bitch?" he says, voice soft and warm, chewing on his lip ring consciously.

"yeah, dick?" replies halsey from the sofa, voice just as equally soft and warm, leg shifting a little. they're (or halsey) watching practical magic on hbo, and louis really isn't in the right zone to give two shits about it right now.

he's thinking about some other stuff.

"why do you think someone would, like... run away just by being greeted hello?" he asks, genuinely curious and clueless - weirded out at best and left baffled. as per usual. harry styles isn't only the popular one, but is also quite the unusual.

no matter how hard he tried, louis just couldn't seem to place him.

why does he scram off like that? why does he go so fucking red? why does he look at louis like louis killed his pet?

time ticks by, louis sidles a bit and catches a glimpse of their rusty narrow veranda, then he swallows the lump that has gathered in his throat.

halsey finally puts in, "maybe because they like you and they're shy?"

at the slapped info in front of him, louis' eyebrows instantly crease, and he thinks  _highly unlikely_. he and harry styles don't know fuck-all about each other, how will harry styles even decide for himself that he suddenly likes louis?

impossible, man, like. there's just no way. lolololol.

but then, the image of harry styles' flushed face from earlier flashes before his eyes again, those especially massive and round bambi eyes, the way he fish mouthed pitifully as he looks at louis, his pretty, pretty brows to raise up to his hairline like that, his pink flushed throat down to his neck and collarbones sending such message he was struck by something, and.

and, "oh."

his face softens at the edges, eyebrows ceasing from knotting up - he can feel them easing little by little himself.

strange.

the realization is sinking in his head.

harry styles likes him¿? wouldn't that be quite reaching¿? it would, wouldn't it?

yes. it would be quite reaching.

halsey is always so full of shit, honestly.

 


	9. // nine talismans: lever stone seat //

**_//all we do is think about the feelings that we hide; all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign; sick and full of pride//_ **

 

grayish fatigue string of smoke whirls along with the crisp california air, passing over louis' head and floating away, louis' wrist dainty and hanging above his kneecap as he sits the slouchiest in their bunch; he's puffing an almost finished killer stick dangling loosely in between his delicate fingers.

he's at alleyways with his douche bag asshole dumb loser fuckboy skater mates again (he's mean and you have no business regarding that), as per usual, and he's really not in the mood to do what the fuck ever in this fine day. but rather just to pass time until he has to go home and or if he's eventually feeling his hunger crawling in. louis feels absolutely close to nothing.

lazily carding a hand through his unwashed hair, blue-streaked strands springing back against his forehead, louis squints up at the openly sun accompanied blue skies, free of clouds yet again, just a few birds flying synchronously to get across skyscrapers and once again home bound. he sighs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

louis acknowledges the fact he's got a fucking boring life, fucking boring companions, and a fucking boring day. perfect. just perfect. can this get any more pathetic than it already is?

louis' eyes shift - delilah is settled right beside him, just existing with him, the both of them killing seconds then to minutes, passing and then turning into hours... he sighs to himself.

after a while, one skater hoots, jumping up from its position to gaze away from afar. "dudes! look who's heading this way!"

everyone's heads perk up, necks elongating just to see whoever is heading their way. louis doesn't have to look, he already knows.

he can sense it, can feel his ears going hot by the second as this person nears closer. for some weird as shit reason. he huffs, annoyed, closing his eyes.

"he-he-hey! the queen has arrived." it's john. stupid, annoying john.

"hi, pretty baby," purrs another one, and louis can sense they're standing just near him. lancelot parks.

"looking good today, eh? extra...fuckable." kit.

"not today, please," harry styles murmurs. louis sniffs in time with it, for whatever reason his body has - why it has to react at all.

there are laughter. condescending ones. louis sniffs again, flicking his cigarette away now, yet without peeking.

someone coos, sounding so sarcastic that louis wants to barf. " _aww_ , why, cutie? not feeling well?"

"that's none of your business," snaps harry styles, still sounding vulnerable. it hurts to listen to him whisper and murmur and mumble like that.

"really now, did your boyfriend -"

"fucking  _hell_ , assholes!" louis finally bursts out, is up on his feet in a heartbeat. he's seething mad, he knows. but for some odd, odd,  _odd_  reason that he can never explain. he feigns relaxed indignation rather than reveal he's actually affected by this. "are y'all not gonna fucking shut your filthy ass mouths, fucking seriously? tryna nap here!"

"tommo -"

he releases loud barks of bitter laughter to cut martin off, snatching delilah on the ground and hopping off his usual lever stone seat. "don't fucking tommo me, you shit!" he advances a step and punches martin's arm, making the guy with millions of piercings all over his face and ears stumble backwards a few steps, as he laughs humorlessly some more. "you disgust me! hahahahahahaha! you don't get to call me  _that_." he spits on the ground near martin's shoes.

he looks at the other skaters, everyone staring at him, including harry fucking styles with those... with those annoyingly big, big jade eyes of his. louis is  _not_ floored by them, he's NOT.

definitely not, definitely -

but.

there's a sad glint in them, a hopeful glint, an anxious one, and louis is just so...

louis skates away, leaving everyone behind without another word.

"what's up with him?" he hears martin mutter in question to others.

**//**

louis kicks at another straying stone on the ground, possibly the fifth, watching it hurl and hit at a concrete wall of a random building. it makes a crunchy noise.

he's decided to just walk to go home today, delilah's track having needed for replacement, the screws quite loose. he doesn't want to risk another broken bone or joint or some shit, so he's not setting her into action for now.

he's left work early, the sun still somewhere up the pink and orange skies, told ed he's got headache (which is true), and he blames it on the alcohol he's drank from the flask he brought to code red this morning. louis just thought it'd be cool to drink during a shift, 'cause like, wouldn't it just?

he's becoming lame lately.

whatever.

(it's because of those green eyes that keep on haunting him in his sleep though, he swears.)

brushing off the thought and looking past ahead, louis with his hand shoved in the pocket of his skinny jeans, the other clutching delilah under his armpit, turns a corner and realizes how he's never been in this side of town before. the streets are unfamiliar, the signs, the shops nestled together. where is this? where is he?

ugh. it's the alcohol.

he still continues his stroll no matter.

as he turns yet another corner, louis can't quite help blinking rapidly as he stops mid-step, narrowing his gaze and adjusting his vision as he  _looks_ , because right there - he sees the owner of said green eyes that keep on making their randomly unexpected appearances in his momentary dreams.

long legs, long curls, milky skin, lean, petite body clad in dark skinny jeans, cream-colored cozy jumper, and brown wedged boots. harry styles.

and, he's inside a... louis squints up to read the sign of some one storey building standing humbly before him.  _periwinkle tots learning center._

it's a daycare. huh.

he blinks at it. then again. over and over. and he gauges just what the hell is harry styles doing in there. he's packing up. he's packing up? are those even his stuff?  _books, coloring books, pencil case, cellphone, a binder, a clipboard, a paper clip case, a leather bound journal with vague scribbles on its front and back_.

so. this is where he works then? well, it seems like it if him, standing behind what louis deems is  _the_  teacher's desk, is any proof of that assumption.

harry styles, the lone man that haunts his dreams for the past two weeks now, is a teacher of...toddlers.  _what are the fucking odds_. he's such a - such a preciously endearing motherfucker, isn't he? so full of secrets, so much mysteries.

so full of...hidden agendas. surprises.

louis gulps, feeling those wildly fluttering thingies in his tummy again. what are they...

watching for a few more seconds, louis gets startled when harry styles looks up. they share eye contact.

but then, louis sighs and closes his eyes once the inevitable occurs. and it's the part where harry styles blushes hard and looks down again.

to proceed with zipping his bag, that is.

**//**

"why do you always look sad?" he blurts just as soon as he kicks on the wall he's been leaning against, when harry styles eventually steps out of the daycare. he's waited.

harry styles looks shocked, but to louis' surprise, he regains half of his composure back in no time. unusual.

"i'm... not," he even murmurs out. progress? please.

louis sniffs as he falls into a step next to harry styles. now they're sort of walking together, side by side. their elbows nor arms don't brush. "it's pretty obvious though," louis continues to say, nonchalant, "is it my asshole friends?"

harry styles looks at him, eyebrows furrowing as he says, "huh? uhm. no. i don't... like, i mean..." he trails off, and louis can see he's turning pink at the cheeks again. he looks...really fucking pretty it's uncanny.

louis shrugs, casual and collected. "i can make them shut up, you know. just say the word and i'll throat someone."

at that, harry styles stops walking. louis stops too, but by a step further than him, so he faces him as he turns back around. harry styles is looking down on the ground, brows still creased, like he's thinking deeply.

"throat someone..." he mumbles thoughtfully, then he looks up, eyes widening as he stumbles out, "you - you'll do that? for me? why?"

louis shrugs again, not saying anything, but he thinks that's quite enough of an answer.

louis watches with his own two eyes as harry styles bites on his bottom lip. it wets, reddens; looks shiny all the damn sudden. it doesn't go straight into louis' dick, definitely  _not_. "uh... your friends are assholes, yeah, but." he swallows, louis can see his throat bobbing. "that's not why i'm..." he sighs, shaking his head as he mumbles, "never mind."

then he's nudging past louis after that, their first 'proper' conversation short-lived, and louis looks on and watches harry styles' striding figure as he's fast walking away... away...away from louis.

why louis doesn't bother going after him, is because of the fact that he's not that kind of person - the invading one, the disrespectful and erasing boundaries without consent. so he doesn't - did not.

but now louis is certain about something.

it's that he's intrigued, interested, moved, and drawn to harry - teacher of toddlers - styles.

wow.

**//**

that night, he engages to a conversation with one of his best friends, while they're both hanging out inside his bedroom and as usual smoking pot.

louis is lying on his back, staring up at the crack-filled ceiling, eyes blinking dazedly. he hums. "i think i like someone, hals."

"really?" she muses next to him, unmoving.

"really." he blows a swirly string of marijuana smoke. it scatters away by the air his ceiling fan provides.

halsey mmms, and then says softly, casually, "good for you, bro. growing a heart and all that."

louis thinks yeah, that's a good thing. he's alright about it. so he says it, "yeah..."

 


	10. // ten albinos: creaky old twin sized bed //

**_//i keep a close watch on this heart of mine, i keep my eyes wide open all the time, i keep the ends out for the tie that binds, because you're mine, i walk the line//_ **

ten albinos: creaky old twin sized bed

louis returns at alleyways the day after his burst out. no one seems to care that he bursted out. louis doesn't care either, if not more.

he's got delilah new blazing green wheels that cost him an also blazing amount of $ 33.75, which he thinks is so worth all the dimes. for one delilah's fixed, secondly she's drifting smoother, thirdly she looks absolutely gorgeous, and lastly, she's his, and he loves her having new parts. so.

and, she's got harry's eyes too. louis swallows down the lasts of gatorade he's been downing. it's okay to address him as just harry now though, isn't it? like, they've had a conversation - they've actually  _exchanged_ words, so that should be enough, right? louis should take that as his cue to do so.

 _thoughts, thoughts, thoughts_. not good.

louis shakes his head, slumping the empty bottle of gatorade on his usual lever stone seat and bolts up from where he's been sitting on the ground, standing up over delilah's sandpaper body and kicking back to advance.

he skates for a while, dodging past other faceless skaters, letting the humid wind fan his face as he goes, the hood of his jacket falling down to his nape from his head, his silver blue hair getting disarranged.

he hates it, stupid fringe blocking his eyes, but he doesn't really give a shit for now. who would? if your mind is haunted by taunting eyes, pretty face and lovely locks?

psh.

tiring up after sliding down jumps and ramps, executing a couple of three-sixties and landing on the ground, a few nollie heelflips and fakie kickflips, skipping a few rails, louis finds himself sat on his usual spot later and taking his hoodie off - so fucking hot in this hell hole, yeah? - being left with just his white gapey arms tank, his biceps and tattoos all exposed. doesn't help much, he thinks, it's still hot as fuck, the sun beating down on his skin. he's gone so golden tan over the week.

"have ye heard, lou," vince starts to say next to him. louis only grunts in response, to indicate he's listening. "there's gonna be a party at mia's house this weekend. nighttime, bro, maybe you want to come? there'll be lotsa beers."

louis nods his head, doesn't really know what for. it doesn't matter. "err, yea. whatever," he mumbles.

"cool!" beams the guy.  _cool?_ it's fucking hot in here, idiot.

rolling his eyes to himself, louis looks up at the cloudless sky and hums, leaning with his palms planted firmly on the ground behind him, getting powdered rocks on his skin. louis feels rather filthy, filled with sweat and thus sticky, but he thinks perhaps he can just shower at code red later. besides, he's done it before. ed isn't in today. no one has to know but zayn. and zayn is his princess, he wouldn't tell a soul. right.

dropping his gaze in front, louis catches harry's own gaze already locked with his. for once, it's louis who spots him first before everyone else going his usual route when going to his  _job_  as a teacher of toddlers. (fuck, louis knows even just a single stuff about him now). and there goes those stupid worms in his belly again, fluttering... louis wants to kick them all and yell at their fucking faces one by one,  _YOU'LL NEVER BE A FUCKING BUTTERFLY, MORON! JUST GIVE IT THE FUCK UP, YOU AMBITIOUS MOTHERFUCKER!"_

"oh, look who's here," martin's voice finally booms all over alleyways. he surely has a big stupid mouth, hasn't he?

whistles. hoots. condescending cheers. malicious stares and drinking downs. these assholes will never learn unless someone teaches them a lesson, will they?

"hi, babe," one purrs as harry carries on with his trek. okay, here they go. who is louis gonna kill first? he wonders.

"lookin' sexy as fuckin' always, bambi," kit attempts at whistling.  _this shit_ , louis thinks absently,  _doesn't even know how to whistle properly._

he tilts his head from side to side, cracking bones as he does so, just watching everything play before him. one wrong move and someone dies today.

 _waiting_... he needs a good timing.

one jumps down from where they've been sitting and starts to walk toward harry. harry who's once again glanced at louis.

heartbeat. heartbeats. fuck. louis clutches on delilah, rather instinctively.  _instinctively_...

and, just as the skater is about to reach out on harry, going for his ass, louis is by their side in a second and is throwing a punch, whirling through the air, his fist going straight to the skater's jaw. louis sees harry jump with the sound of bones cracking, a squeal leaving his throat, making louis snicker inwardly. clearly, harry styles is not the fighting type nor is he used to seeing fist fights happening in front of him.

heh. louis throws another punch. "fuck!" they bite out.

"yeah, fuck," louis spits.

and that doesn't stop there; he still has to take care of this perverted asshole until  _they can't walk_. might just stick to the rest of their kinds' little heads that it is  _not_ okay to sexualize a poor human being like harry, when they only ever wanted to go to their work places and teach innocent children.

using delilah (for a lack of weapon, 'kay?), louis strikes and has delilah's body collide with the skater's back with a loud thump, causing them to drop to the ground - and it still doesn't finish there, because louis already has his mind set to break delilah to this guy's body. fuck mercies. he keeps on pounding his board on their limping body on the concrete nearby harry's gold boots, hard board against bones sounding all over the now eerily silent skate park, everyone's eyes locked on louis and the skater's body on the ground.

harry isn't doing anything either, just with his eyes all huge and watching louis slowly kill this guy, the other skaters doing the exact same. haha. damn.

if louis can only shrug, he would. be the shrug emoji right now. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

because he isn't stopping until someone does it for him, see. whenever he's in the midst of fighting, louis gets lost in it and will never stop til he's out of stamina.

at this point, delilah's on the verge of breaking in half. whoops. this guy deserves it though, doesn't he? louis can't hear anyone anymore - can't see white, but black. he thinks he hears the guy's cries, but.

"dude! stop!"

"you're killing him, lou! stop it!"

sarcastic laughter bubbles out of louis' throat and he can feel his muscles contracting, delilah's body producing a huge crack.  _sorry, delilah._

"fuck, tommo! jesus christ, man!" someone holds his left arm. wrong arm, fucker. that's louis' weak arm.

"stop it, please!"

huh.

that's harry.

with a loud sigh, louis stops, chest heaving frantically. he can feel his hands shaking madly. fuck.

he looks down and he sees blood. he closes his eyes as he bends his head upwards, sunbeams hitting his face. what a nice day.

**//**

there are flowers of all colors painted on the walls. louis ends up at the daycare's clinic. (why him, though? he should be behind bars right now. lol)

"told you i'll throat someone for you," he boasts, smirking at the older man before him, who looks so anxious louis almost pities him.

eyes wide and cheeks beet red, harry gapes at him, scandalized. "throat someone? you almost  _killed_ that boy!" harry is taking care of his wound - the bits of cuts on his knuckles. not that big, really.

louis rolls his eyes. he hates being scolded. "yea, well. he almost touched your -"

"doesn't matter! you still almost killed them, and - if that happened i won't be able to live by it!" harry exclaims, almost looking like he wants to pull at his hair. hehe.

"jeez. calm down, curly harry. i just punched a guy for you. you should be thankful." he huffs.

harry shakes his head. "kids."

"kids?" louis cocks a brow. "i'm not a fucking kid." he wants to spit - he can't, they're in a clean facility.

harry looks at him, as though sizing him up. "you're probably on your...twenties, whatever. not a kid, sure. but compare to me, you are. also acting like one." he turns away to place the bandages on a table, and returns back to louis.

louis narrows his gaze.  _this guy..._

without thinking, he cups harry's face and leans in. he presses his lips against harry's owns. hmm. they're freaking soft. he parts away and blinks at harry. "i'm not a kid. and you're not too old, so."

harry's stunned, body stiffening in seconds flat, and louis can't help but smirk. but then harry's eyes are softening. he sighs. "i'm 34. and... how did you know my name?"

louis shrugs. "my douche bag friends talk about you a lot."

harry nods, but he opts for a topic change, "i haven't gotten yours."

"i'm louis," he states simply.

harry nods again. "louis. how old are you then?"

louis gulps. "erm. 28..."

"louis."

"fine. 23. but that's not young, ye?" he cocks an eyebrow at harry, crossing his arms against his chest.

harry scoffs, but it's playful. "sure."

**//**

louis comes to work feeling lightweight and happy. he greets zayn with a kiss. and then the day goes.

**//**

at nighttime, he goes home to a halsey licking someone out on the sofa and he doesn't care. just stands there and pats her head. halsey flashes him a thumbs up, and the girl who's being eaten out only moans her "hi."

louis giggles. "hellooooo."

louis flops down on his bed that night grinning like a lovesick loon. a fool.

a lovesick fool lying across his creaky old twin sized bed.

he just kissed harry styles!!!! aaahhhhh!!!! <3333

*cue starboy by the weeknd playing in the background*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha! this chapter is so weird


	11. // eleven portals: stone paths filled pavement //

**_//you know i told you that i wasn't scared. well, i lied. you told me, "babe I only think of you." and i said, "all i've got is a bunch of sad stories." and i told them all before the night was through//_ **

 

louis wakes up the next day wanting to remove his bandage and lick at his knuckles - maybe tame his stupid, throbbing wounds. they're fucking itchy while they swell like mothertruckers, and he's having these strange urgencies to do  _something_ about them.  _anything_.

he groans, kicking his legs to sit up over his bed, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn that turns into a guttural moan, as he stretches his arms wide.

louis stays there for a few more minutes, recalling the happenings from yesterday, how harry and the rest of the guys pulled at his arms to stop him from killing  _john_. (so it was john then. louis didn't recognize anyone when he was seeing red. although, louis supposes now he wouldn't be able to recognize john again, considering he broke his nose and... a couple of bones there as well.)

louis still can see at the back of his mind the way harry had wheezed yesterday, tears in his eyes welling up, lips trembling and face contorted into one of aggravated.

louis was covered in blood, face and eyelids and the corner of his lips - his hair, his tank top (from white to white soaked with red), his tattoos, his knuckles and his arms. even delilah got covered with blood. all of which was john's, save for the blood that was gushing out of louis' knuckles, his 28 tattoo a bit messed up.

while the rest of the skaters took care of john, meanwhile, louis was being dragged by harry and together they hailed for a cab. harry suggested they went to the hospital, but louis was quick to protest and just requested they go someplace else. he needed to smoke to calm himself down, and harry understood that, so they told the cabbie driver to just drop them at periwinkle learning center.

since it was sort of an emergency, harry was given a go signal to leave hours of class to a substitute teacher while he was accompanying louis aka a patient (if that). he smoked at the back of the schoolyard, harry by his side and still panicking, biting on his nails and pacing worriedly. louis had kept his eyes on him the whole time, body still covered in blood as he smoked away.

"will you chill?" louis mumbled then, feeling ashamed of course. he and harry weren't close, after all.

harry snapped his head up to give him a pointed look. his green eyes were red at the brims, nose flaring as he breathed. "how - how could you be so - so  _calm_ _?_  how could you e-even s-say that -"

louis raised his arms in surrender, cheeks heating up. "alright, alright, you may proceed to -," he gestured with his hand, "- to whatever you're worrying for." he sighed as he continued to smoke.

harry also did proceed to pace back and forth, but only for two steps each before he was snatching louis' killer stick, to which louis whined with a, "hey!" when he threw it on the ground to stomp on it, and then pulling him by his arm as they went inside the daycare.

and that was when harry dragged him to the clinic to fix the wounds on his knuckles, as well as wipe the blood stains all over his skin.

oh, and - harry also undressed him by the way, and washed his bloody tank top for him, then fetched him a fresh new tee to get into. a lot occurred, in short. just that, everything from yesterday had been... history, and it is only now that louis' realizing that all of those really  _happened_ _._

unreal...surreal. god.

another day, another dollar!, chirps spongebob all the way from the running television by the living room, a perfect timing to his thoughts, making louis grin.

he grins because he also remembers so clearly.

 _he's kissed harry styles yesterday._ muehehehe. giddy, giddy, giddy.

hopping off his bed, bare feet landing on the old lukewarm linoleum flooring his room has always had, louis leaves his bedroom for the bathroom next door, brushing his teeth and washing his face, careful not to get anything on his bandaged fist. his metallic blue hair has been fading into a platinum white now, he notices as he stares at himself on the mirror, making him scrunch his nose up in distaste.

hm.

"halseeeeh!"

no answer.

he tries again, louder this time as he cranes his neck to the side - where the door is. "halseeeeh!"

"what!? fucking hell, louis!" halsey exasperates, annoyed and disturbed with whatever she's doing, probably. she comes stomping her way coming from somewhere, and then she's soon busting through the bathroom door with her hair like a bird nest atop her head. "what, dick!?"

"don't what dick me! what's happening to my hair?" he demands to know, nodding to his reflection on their vanity mirror and raising an authoritative eyebrow at halsey.

her shoulders sag, and she breathes out, "oh." louis waits until she's tiptoeing inside and reaching out to inspect louis' hair. "well. you've got options. do you want your old hair back or dye it blue again?"

louis hums, genuinely considering this kind of thing. "i dunno. which is better?"

halsey tilts her head sideways, fingers under her chin. "i think...blue."

"blue it is then," louis settles with, rubbing his palms together. then there's a pregnant pause. he looks up at halsey expectantly. "what now?"

she's smirking, the git. "you liked it, didn't you?"

louis feels his cheeks heat up, guilt eating at him. he grits his teeth. "are you gonna dye my hair blue or i'm gonna shave your fucking head in your sleep?"

halsey lifts up a hand at louis, dismissive as she says, "please, no need for that, loser. i've already set a date for when i'll be leaving for a haircut. i'm having my hair shaved."

louis cocks a brow at this, ears perking up. "you are?"

"yep," halsey nods. "maybe next week. fuckin' hate my hair these days, frizzy as fuck; thought it's time for a  _massive_ change."

louis hums. "if you say so, minerva mcgonagall.  _anyway_  - back to the point?"

"right," she nods, "you have a couple of things to buy first."

"like...?"

"oxidizer, and the blue hair dye. i've ran out of stuff, so."

"ah," louis nods, creating a mental list in his head. "okay."

retreating back to his room, louis looks around the place in search of delilah.

he whistles, staring at her in dismay. she's mid-broken in half, got some cracks on her back, some outlines with zigzags and distorted deviant art...

he bites his lip, gaze flicking back and forth over his other tools near her. wheels, bearings, hardware, griptape, risers, and bushings. they're scattered everywhere, delilah's new trucks still attached to her body. those new pairs...

sighing for the last time, louis eventually springs into action and quickly dresses up. he goes for some black boardshorts, gray tank top, his adidas shoes, and his maroon beanie, pushing his fringe back beneath it.

he's off to work without delilah. welp. this is a first...

**//**

the day at code red goes as per usual, high school students, random folks and punk kids spilling the door to purchase something, but there's one thing louis notices that bugs him the entire time he's there: harry's absence. he doesn't like that he's absent.

**//**

louis examines the bandage around his right fist, admiring the fact that it was done so...carefully and perfectly, even with a little cute pin to hold it in place. as if the one who did it actually  _cared_  for him.

he smiles, remembering how harry styles had looked while he made it for him, how his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes so focused, biting on his lower lip as he tied it around louis' hand.

his curls were falling down on his face as he bowed his head and worked on the pin, and louis had been so adamant to tuck his hair behind his ear, only that harry had grunted at him and told him, "keep your hands off me, i still haven't forgiven you."

and louis is just... he's so endeared, alright? he was so, so endeared that he didn't care that harry was mad at him that day. he sure knew he was blushing and starry-eyed the whole time though, because...well, harry makes him  _feel_ _._

he scoffs, shaking his head at himself fondly. last week he didn't care about all these...feelings and melodramatic shit. but now - look at him. sitting at a stone paths filled pavement waiting for harry to call it a day inside periwinkle learning center.

because yes. yes, he's just sat right across the daycare as of the moment, after a day at work, being a right creep. louis is admitting that he is a creep. harry styles' #1 whipped stalker. hihihi.

harry af.

#1 harry trash.

or whatever kids call it these days.

anyway.

louis looks ahead once again, catching a glimpse of harry standing behind the teacher's desk... giggling and laughing at whatever his children are telling him, and -

fuck it. if you come to think of it, this is the first time louis is actually witnessing harry pulling a genuine smile.

cheeks blooming pink, eyes crinkled at the sides, eyelashes fluttering and rosy red lips stretched so wide they look like they're hurting.

and, wow. just...wow.

not only in his dreams were harry looking so downtrodden, but also when he visits code red and walking past alleyways...

the sad look on his face, the sad glint in his emerald eyes. it almost is contagious - the forlorn façade that he constantly wears.

louis swallows the lump he hasn't noticed that's been building at the tip of his throat. he...he can't stay here and watch this unfold before him.

it feels like cheating, and louis hates cheating. he hates cheaters, fuck.

it's like - he's intruding into a big part of harry's personal life that he isn't allowed to see just yet.

 _just yet_ _._

louis stands up, walks toward the direction of the daycare's fences to the playground. he climbs it, drops with a silent thump on the grass, the leaves sounding crunchy against his vans' soles. he walks over to the swings and sits on one of them. this is where he'll wait, he decides.

at least this way, he won't see harry's private deceiving smiles.

**//**

harry finds him at the playground by the swings after a while. he's swinging when harry clears his throat.

he looks up. grins cheekily.

"hi."

he watches as harry purses his lips, crossing his arms against his chest.

"hey." his voice is soft - unwavering. louis' heart leaps up to his throat hearing it.

**//**

they walk side by side just like the last time, this time on their way to 'the bakery'. wherever that is, louis isn't even familiar to this side of town. harry's side of town.

"so, gonna tell me yet why you're sad?" louis starts with, hands shoved in the pockets of his boardshorts.

harry doesn't sigh, doesn't even flinch like he used to. "no, louis," is the only thing he says.

louis hums, nodding. "hmm. you know... there's a chance i would know what to do in order to make you happy again. only if you let me into your pretty, pretty little head."

harry stops on his tracks, purses his lips again as he casts louis a suspicious side glance. "and why would you do that...?"

louis cocks a brow at him, sarcastically saying, "uh... maybe because i like you?"

harry blushes, but is quick to change his facial expression and frowns, "louis. i'm a 34 year-old person, twice as older as you -"

"meh!" louis dismisses, "not really, just -," he starts counting with his fingers.

"- and besides, you already have -"

"- right, 11 years age gap."

"- a girlfriend," harry finishes with a firm tone.

"wait, what?" louis gapes at him.

"you have a girlfriend," harry states, fidgety now. his curls are falling softly on his cheek again, and louis is itching to tuck them behind his ear. he doesn't. "right? i - i mean, i saw you."

and, no, wait. louis is confused. what girlfriend??? what the hell is harry talking about???

"huh. where? when?" he asks, knotting his brows together, getting impatient.

"at the supermarket," harry answers, pursing his lips again.

okay, so. supermarket...supermarket.

supermarket?

louis can't even recall in his head the last time he went to the fucking supermarket -

"oh!" louis' mouth forms an  _o_  as realization finally hits him hard. "ohhhh. that's -," he laughs, can't help himself, "fuck, that's halsey, she's..." he gestures with his hands, feigning disgust as he shudders exaggeratedly, " _harry_ , she's like, my bro from another mother, yeh? just like zayn is."

harry blinks at him, eyebrows raised high. "who's zayn?"

louis sighs. "my co-worker from the cd shop, remember?"

"oh."

"yeah. hals is my apartment buddy, and -," he shows harry his triangle tattoo, just because the internet told him enough, "- i'm gay, see?"

"oh...okay," harry heaves a sigh, staring at his ankle tattoo.

"so?" louis prompts.

harry looks sheepish as he mutters, "11 years age gap...?"

at that, louis rolls his eyes, like solemnly, and then he's grabbing harry by his waist and pressing their bodies together, their chests flushed against each other, rendering harry submissive and squeaking under his breath.

he looks at harry quietly and searches his green, green eyes, drinking in the sunken look on his face, his gaze flicking down to harry's parted lips and craving for the sweet taste of them.

no one speaks between the two of them, their surroundings serving as a bonus for how it brings perfect taciturnity in this moment. sure there are cars that pass, random people that give them strange and curious looks, but louis is too engrossed to the dazed sways of harry's eyelids and the soft flutters of his lashes that he can't just bring himself to care.

lifting a hand up, louis pushes at the curly strands that are blocking his view of harry's left eye, tucking them behind his ear gently. louis has never been this gentle with anyone...

looking at harry's eyes again, louis tries to ask for his permission just by staring at him whether or not it's okay that he kisses him again. harry's eyes are...once again sporting those glints in them. louis can't tell if they are sad glints, or worried glints, but.

he takes that as a yes anyway...

so louis tiptoes then, hand sliding down harry's soft cheek until he's cupping harry's jaw, his other hand at the small of harry's back tender as ever, as he slowly leans in and slots his own lips against harry's already parted ones.

and it's like the caterpillars in his tummy are one by one exploding, fireworks bursting from their insides. louis visibly shivers from it.

just like the last time, harry's lips are as soft as they look, as sweet as they seem, and as wet as they usually are.

his hold on harry's back tightens, fingers digging in harry's lilac jumper, his other hand that's caressing harry's jaw moving with his lips against harry's that are unfortunately frozen on their spot.

he isn't doing anything. harry isn't kissing him back, isn't even closing his eyes. fuck...it doesn't feel good to be rejected this way, alright? :'(

so what will louis do? :'( pull back, see the unaffected look on harry's face, and then what? :'(

just when louis is about giving up, thinking that harry's not planning on kissing him back, he's caught off guard when harry suddenly tilts his head to the side and drops all the books he's been clutching on for dear life to the ground. harry's gigantic paws travel up to louis' chest in a haste, making louis close his eyes on instinct, and then louis all the while feels his tank top being gripped by the collar. harry is pulling him closer.

his lips against louis' begin to move, willingly opening up, and louis is more than happy to comply and invite himself in harry's sweet, hot mouth. he slips his tongue in between harry's lips, harry doing the same with his causing their tongues to slide against each, some wet sounds producing as they properly make out. right here, in the middle of a pavement on their way to some bakery unknown to louis.

their passionate, urgent, public kissing lasts for a while, harry's delicate fingers slowly losing their hard grip on louis' collar, differing from louis' clutches on his jaw and back that are both still secured and possessive. louis takes that as his cue to come back to the now and part away from harry.

when louis opens his eyes, the way that harry's covering his mouth as if kissing louis is the worst thing he's ever done in his life - with his eyes going thrice as big - is causing louis' heart to split in half.

why? he asks himself.

why the shocked look in his eyes?

why...

_why the regretful look in your eyes, harry styles?_

"i... i'm sorry," harry chokes out, dropping to the ground in a heartbeat and gathering his stuff scattered around his shoes, hands shaking and clammy. louis without thinking drops down as well to help harry with his things. when their hands accidentally touch as they scramble for books, it's as if louis has some type of disease, harry is quick to pull away just to keep a generous distant between them. their gazes lock again and louis' heart drops just as he sees those fucking sad glints in their green and gold speckles again. which, fuck. fuck. fuck.

FUCK!!! LOUIS WANTS TO SCREAM.

harry makes to stand, hair askew, hugging his books and binder to his chest. louis tries to reach out, but harry flinches without even being held. louis can't help but snap now. "harry, for fuck's sakes!" harry visibly freezes at his tone. louis sighs, running a hand across his face, frustrated. but then he settles for soft. "what's wrong, babe? please. tell me?"

backing away, harry only shakes his head and mutters helplessly, "i'm sorry. oh god. i'm so, so sorry." and then he's running away after that, long limbs tripping on their own and tumbling as he goes, turning a corner quickly and then disappearing from louis' range of sights altogether.

louis ends up taking a deep breath and shoving his hands in his pockets again. he blows out the air that's gathered in his lungs, and then he's heading the opposite way without another word, opting to just go the fuck home.

fuck this.

**//**

_the mirror's image_  
_tells me it's home time_  
_but i'm not finished_  
_'cause you're not by my side_  
_and as i arrived i thought i saw you leaving_  
_carrying your shoes_  
_decided that once again i was just dreaming_  
_of bumping into you_

getting to bed at 2 in the morning, louis falls asleep to the sound of alex's wickedly sexy voice pressed deep into his numbing ears, head filled with freshly burnt grass, dreaming about the one and only harry fucking styles who has his heart with him.

 


	12. // twelve amenities: vandalism centered apartment //

**_//if i didn't kill it, would you still say you needed me? guess i walked right into it, guess i made it too easy; if any word that you said could have made me forget, would i get up off the floor? cause this is all in my head//_ **

 

so, how come delilah dies on him? does the world hate him? is this the backfire after almost killing an asshole?

louis has his own newborn heart fucking broken last night, and now delilah is also officially gone, was a lost cause, beyond repair, etcetera. wow. what a cruel fucking world.

good thing that louis received his monthly salary and allowance three days ago, and so he still has a few dollars in his wake. maybe he can buy a new baby.

he stares up at the colorfully artsy nameless, free boards lining up the slanted shelf above the door of guns & roses tattoo parlor, contemplating on whether or not it's too soon to replace delilah.

he sighs, thinking about his stupid, aching heart. he's craving for a day at alleyways, see, to skate to get his mind off things. perhaps it's fine. he doesn't want to borrow cyclops from zayn.

truthfully, louis wants to forget that harry has once again ran off from him, especially after a kiss that he also partook, and then later on shoving into louis' throat how he regretted the entirety of that shared moment. he's such a frustrating guy, harry styles, louis realizes now, which. fuck. he always keeps louis on his toes - keeps him at the edge of his seat, and it's only making louis...

it's making louis want him more.

he groans, startling the other customers inside of code red. he scowls at the few who shot him annoyed looks, rolling his eyes with a huff and that's when zayn comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. "problem, babe?" he whispers on louis' nape, lips brushing against his skin.

louis sighs at that, body relaxing a little as he leans back against zayn's calmly heaving chest. how zayn is always so chill and collected, louis probably will never know. but he supposes he can blame it on the blunt zayn takes like second nature.

"i broke delilah, z, and it angers me that i need a new one this instant. i don't know if i'm ready to replace her."

"oh. well..." zayn mumbles, trailing off. he rounds louis and stands in front of him. louis looks at him, sees his thick eyelashes framing his hazel eyes, still getting endeared by them up to this day. zayn truly is a marvelous creature, and it just adds to the baffling fact that despite that...it's still harry styles that effortlessly stole his heart. just like that.

like, zayn is gorgeous. louis had fucked him countless of times, had a taste of his sweet, soft lips, and yet...it's still only harry that louis wants to go after. for the first time in his life he actually wants to be a fool. he didn't fall in love with zayn when they were fucking. not even an ounce of love. jesus.

but with harry? one who he knows /nothing/ about...

strange, sure, but louis thinks that's how...that stupid 'L' word works. he rolls his eyes mentally, annoyed. bitter.

although, coming to think of it. harry styles is also freakishly gorgeous. he's beautiful, like. he's  _ethereal_. just his rare green eyes alone can already reduce louis into a puddle of  _mess_. what more when he's finally smiling sincerely for louis? what more?

fuck. louis would probably fall in fuckin' love with him in no time.

he sniffs just thinking about that possibility. then he shakes his head. he needs to  _focus_ _._

"but, do you want to replace her today?" zayn is asking him. louis blinks a few times. delilah, he remembers. replace her. right.

"uh. yeah, i guess. i want to pass some time at alleyways tonight," louis responds, words muttered out uneasily, quite unsure with what he's saying. because does he really? this early?

"then just choose, purchase, move on, and just be happy with a new girlfriend. nothing lasts forever, besides, and -," zayn puts an arm around louis' shoulders, "- you're a really good boyfriend, lou. you've had delilah for almost five years. i haven't even had cyclops for two, and he's already at the verge of breaking. wouldn't be bad to free yourself from her now, would it?"

ahhh...zayn has a point. as much as louis hates to admit it. whatever.

he shrugs. "k."

**//**

"please, won't you push me for the last time! let's scream until there's nothing left!" louis sings loudly as he mops the floor of code red, pierce the veil screaming the lyrics of king for a day in the shop's hanging speakers, the music extra booming since no one's around at the moment. "so sick of playing, i don't want this anymore! the thought of you's no fucking fun! you want a martyr, i'll be one, because enough's enough, we're done."

jeez. the lyrics fit exactly louis' mood for today, don't they?

he looks up just in time to see zayn watching him, head bobbing up and down in time with the song. they share a knowing smile, zayn's eyes hazy and heavy lidded (he's high, obviously, as always), and then louis is back on mopping the floor into squeaky clean, swaying his hips to the beat as he headbangs like a pretentious twat. he doesn't give two shits.

when he finishes later, louis waits for the red floor to dry, before he drops down and sprawls his body over it, spreading his limbs out, as if he's making a snow angel. he looks up at the high ceilings of code red, eyes averting from hanging light bulb to hanging lantern, until he feels someone situating themselves next to him.

he learns it's zayn. he can smell his cologne, even without looking to see if it really is him.

they stay like that for a while, just lying on the immaculate floor with their arms and legs brushing, their breathings alternating between them.

the bell dings seconds to their weirdness, and then a person trudges in. louis feels yet another body lying next to him. he doesn't know the person, but he thinks  _same_ _._

his shift ends and harry styles never once stopped by to lurk around it.

louis tries his hardest not to pout.

**//**

so louis' got ted, his new board with the rainbow bears deviant art at the bum, doodles of nautical stuff surrounding them. he's cute, louis' gonna give him that.

he arrives at alleyways with a flourish, dropping his new friend on the concrete ground and stepping on his sandpaper, kicking at the cement and letting his purple trucks roll smoothly from underneath his weight.

ted moves nicely; ted corresponds to louis' movements. good.

just like how he's expected his return would be, louis is met with curious stares and gossipy murmurs behind his back, all coming from the skaters of alleyways. he can feel them burning holes on his back, the part where he doesn't need to look. he can also hear what they're whispering about.

and, well. good to know that louis' just become more feared around this side of the skating community. he likes to keep his alpha title, thanks.

he spits on the ground, earning him startled looks from the others, making him whip around and raise his eyebrow at them. "what? got something to fucking say?" he snaps.

no one says a thing, the guys shaking their heads. louis rolls his eyes and skates away.

**//**

he lies on his usual spot on the lever stone seat, one leg crossed over the other, his black converse hurting his ankles a bit. he ignores the disturbing searing pain, just continues to have his late afternoon nap instead.

his eyes are closed, arm perched over them, blocking the setting sun's rays. he falls asleep.

blinking awake moments later, louis finds himself in the same position proving once again how he's a non-squirmy sleeper. louis thinks it doesn't suit his flexibility when he's conscious, but he supposes there are perfect timings for everything.

just like this for example; when louis shifts his gaze and looks to his left, he spots john covered in gauze, some bandages wrapped around his middle. even louis is shocked that he recognized him.

"hey, john, my man!" louis calls out, sitting up and crossing his legs together, enthusiastic and a little extra. he grins and waves at john when he looks up ahead, louis acting as if he didn't almost kill the guy. "yooo!"

john narrows his gaze on him at first, before they get big after learning it's /louis/, and then he's shaking his head all the sudden. "fuck you," he mutters, walking away.

louis chuckles heartily. "love you too, man, love you too. no hard feelings, yeah?"

"fuck off."

"hahahahahahaha!"

**//**

"when will our lives exceed though?" halsey asks airily, mostly just talking nonsense as she lies in between louis and zayn on the floor, their bodies limp and heady, eyes red.

they're at louis and halsey's vandalism centred apartment, smoking pot, getting high. the usual. it's zayn's turn to score them some.

"i dunno," zayn answers, voice lazy and slow.

"why do you ask?" louis quips, the same languid aura lacing his entirety.

"erm... i don't...have any..."

a whole minute passes, and that's the only time zayn and louis turn their heads to see that halsey has fallen asleep.

"weak ass..." louis mumbles with a hazy grin.

"but great ass..." zayn adds, grinning slyly.

"incest, z," louis rolls his eyes with a giggle.

zayn hums. "my aesthetic," he decides.

louis giggles again. "weirdo."

and he frowns after that - after he realizes that he's not seen harry at all today until night.

**//**

the next day, louis finds himself standing outside of the daycare once again.

unlike the last time, louis has settled into hiding, doesn't want to scare harry away, considering their very last encounter where harry ran off.

despite his spot behind some parked car, louis still can make out of harry's face amongst the bunch of kids that are jumping up and down trying to get a hold of...what's that? they're trying to pulls at harry's curls, and...?

make them bounce back? omg.

louis blinks rapidly, feeling himself blush. they're so...adorable.

harry is excellent with children, gosh.

 _okay, settle down heart_ , louis thinks to himself, cheeks hot and ears ringing.

just as louis sees that harry's finally about to step out of the small building, louis makes to stand and dust his jeans so maybe he can go towards him.

but then - louis halts in his steps.

there is this tall guy, quite buff, probably around harry's age, and he's - louis looks closely, watches...

the guy; he's going towards harry. he comes up to harry with a big smile. he's -

shit. the guy is kissing harry.

louis doesn't...he doesn't need to see this.

he turns away quickly, heart stuck on his throat. he walks away.

fuck. this fucking  _hurts_.

what the fuck was that.

 


	13. // thirteen bullets: three-headed stylish stereo //

**_//are you with us, darling? cause you treat it like a game. and you mess yourself up, it's such a shame, such a shame. you got issues, darling, cause you waste it all away. you're full of yourself, it's all in vain, all in vain. and it breaks my heart, and it breaks my heart...//_ **

 

so harry has a boyfriend then. no wonder he ran away from louis the second time their lips touched. fuck this shit.

louis closes his eyes, tired of punching his pillows for over half an hour now, pissed and feeling deceived. louis has never been lied to nor cheated by his past conquers. he always gets what he wants.  _always_. fuck. harry's making this difficult this time around.

tired of screaming into his hands, louis just decides to grab his phone and press his earbuds in, tuning in to his fuck you, i'm mad playlist.

_when i wake up i'm afraid, somebody else might take my place_   
_when i wake up i'm afraid, somebody else might take my place_   
_paid that money, fake that dummy, ache my tummy_   
_on the fence, all the time_   
_paid junk honey, face so sunny, ain't that funny_   
_all my friends always lie to me_   
_i know they're thinking_

_you're too mean, i don't like you, fuck you anyway_   
_you make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs_   
_it hurts but i won't fight you, you suck anyway_   
_you make me wanna die, right when i..._

louis falls asleep like that, didn't want to leave his bed despite halsey's incessant knocking and offers to smoke weed, not really in his best mood.

his heart hurts.

**//**

"you've been moping, love." zayn comes up behind him with cyclops tucked in between his hip and arm, hot breath hitting louis' neck. louis steals a glance at him, gaze shifting down to see cyclops, having a confirmation that he really does look like he's about breaking. he's got cracks at the edges, gray trucks so dirty and filled with scratches. zayn and his harsh skateboarding.

"i'm not," louis responds after a few seconds delay. when zayn didn't say anything, he goes back to doing what exactly zayn pointed out he's been doing. moping. he slumped his chin over his forearm again and just continues to look at the students in their uniform rummage through stacks of vinyls at one corner of code red.

a beat passes. zayn hums. "who is it, lou?"

louis scrunches up his nose. "huh."

"who's the culprit."

"culprit," louis laments, words muffled by his forearm, now that he's shifted with his position over the counter. "what the hell are you even talking about, zayn..."

"i mean...who made you sad?"

"oh." is louis sad? really? is he? no. no. louis is  _mad_. he is. blood boiling by degrees, louis rises from his mopey posture to perhaps scold zayn and tell him to just leave him alone, "i'm not -," but then his throat closes up just as soon as the bell chimes and in strides the one and only reason for hiS SADNESS. YES, HE'S SAD. OKAY, HE'LL ADMIT. FINE. SHIT.

he watches at the corner of his eye as harry goes over the meghan trainor cds. this guy and his questionable tastes... first, the muscly boyfriend of his who looks uglier than louis' alter ego, and now this pick.

louis glares, all of his attention quickly zeroing on harry's back, eyes trailing down to the older man's...lower lean back, to the joints that connect to his waist and his...ass. his pert ass in those tight, spray-on jeans.

gaahhh. lalalalala. louis shakes his head. he's  _mad_ at him.

faster than ever when he's seeing red, louis hops off the counter and makes it to harry's side in no time, the soles of his adidas squeaking against the floor. harry is quick to acknowledge him, jumping to his sudden presence beside him, green eyes coming up to lock with his angry blue ones.

(fuck, he looks so - so  _pretty_.)

not sure what to expect what would be harry's reaction to his seething angry face, louis deems harry confused above all else, blinking at him with his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted open. like, a genuinely confused person. louis brushes off the thought of kissing harry right this instant just because his aura alone is very much inviting. especially his angelic scent. because again, louis is  _fuming mad_ _._

so, "cheater," louis bites out.

harry gives him the 'wtf look'. "huh? oh, louis, glad to know you're being a kid again." harry rolls his eyes and proceeds with rummaging rack after rack of cds.

louis grits his teeth. "you didn't tell me you've got a boyfriend." he scoffs at the absurdity of himself even doing this confrontation right now - like, in the middle of code red, with kids everywhere and zayn without a doubt watching them from behind the counter. louis finds that he doesn't care. (even though he's not the type to do such thing. he's a naturally chill guy for fuck's sake!)

harry looks at him, "a boyfriend - what?" he laughs. loud. insulting. his dimples popping up. fuck, he's got dimples?  _he's got fucking dimples_. how did louis miss those two little shits??? "who told you that? god. i've no boyfriend, louis."

louis  _neglects_ those deep craters. he's angry here, alright. he's planning on keeping his stern look, thanks. "then who the fuck was that?" he demands, crossing his arms over his chest. he can feel his face heating up - he's blushing he just knows it.

"what? who?" harry is doing the 'wtf look' once more. he looks goddamn gorgeous even so. louis almost bit his lip.

"oh, s-sod off!" is what he says instead. louis pushes past harry, making sure to shove his arm on his wake and make him hurt.

"ow, hey!" harry winces audibly. louis walks out of code red.

fuck this shit.

**//**

"pass me the fucking blunt," louis extends an arm out. "quickly!" he yells when no one is being hasty.

a blunt is given to him in a second. louis smokes away his anger and sorrows.

why he's acting like a jealous boyfriend, louis has no clue. all he knows is he likes harry styles so much that he can't take the impending rejection that he's sure is about to be given to him by harry.

because fUCK IT. HARRY HAS A FUCKING BOYFRIEND. FUCK THAT GUY FOR KNOWING HARRY FIRST BEFORE LOUIS. SERIOUSLY, FUCK HIM.

louis needs distraction, he thinks. right, right. maybe he should just fuck the next person who would stumble upon him. fuck them good and fast and just throw them afterwards like he always does. not grow a liking towards them like what's happened with harry freaking styles. because that way, at least louis has avenged himself using another person, and he knows that'll make him feel better about himself.

he huffs, taking another long drag of the kush.

louis sniffs, rubbing at his nose and looking around the skate park.

then he thinks,  _or maybe..._

**//**

the house is just like any typical houses in the outskirts of california. white with two floors, orange roofs at every foundation, a porch, white windows, one big door, plants everywhere, grasses on the front lawn, some fences, and some one-line stone path. typical.

the moon is high up in the sky, stars accompanying its full shining white beauty, clouds smudged at the edges and bleeding all over the dark navy blue skies, white smoky particles scattering uncontrollably. it's a pretty image, that - a true picturesque. and it differs from louis' mood.

louis stands outside of mia's house. her house that is buzzing from the inside, blinking colorful strobe lights seeping through the windows together with the party house music.

louis can hear mia's guests shouting and laughing from the inside as well, tissue papers being thrown by some who are drunk and lurking by the lawn, some couples making out behind bushes and shaking them like animals. louis huffs, still contaminated by the weed he's taken just now, trying to process everything that's happening before him.

fuckin' typical house party. louis likes it.

because that probably means there's also bottomless booze and beers and chips there somewhere. or in the kitchen. louis needs to get  _smashed_ _._

his motto for tonight: get drunk, get stupid, get laid. louis will fuck the first person to show motives to him tonight.

flicking his cigarette butt away, louis kicks on the car he's been leaning against and starts toward the house with his chin tipped up.

he trespasses through the fence, hopping over it, kicking on a stray empty bottle and passing by a few drunkards on his way, and then finally he's entering the house, taking someone else's red cup from their grasp as soon as he gets in. louis downs it. beer. he smiles sluggishly.

some fetty wap song is booming from the three-headed stylish stereo, and louis already feels good being surrounded by blinking neon lights, sweaty reeking of strange scented cologne bodies, dancing people he doesn't recognize, some guys and girls that are smirking toward his direction, being suggestive, the lot.

louis decides to get to the kitchen and grab himself something strong. he fights through the crowd.

**//**

louis has been dancing with just anyone now, so high and drunk off his ass. his "nice big ass", one of the guys whispered in his ear moments prior.

he knows he's about to pass out on the floor with the amount of vodka & tonic he's gulped down, with the zip lock bags of weed some blondes also slipped in his jeans that he consumed. now there are just...so many blinking lights everywhere he looks, every direction he turns.

every time louis blinks, there are guys throwing themselves at him, holding his hips or gripping his waist, pressing their bulging cocks against his thighs or in between the swell of his ass cheeks. like,  _as if_ _._

but then, there are also a bunch of girls that keep on grinding against him, nudging his crotch purposefully and then peering up just to wink.

louis grins wolfishly at most of them - whoever they are (are they a girl or a boy? oh, whatever).

and just as he knows he's about to pass out, right there on the dance floor, feeling sticky with sweat and high on marijuana, louis at least has felt when someone closes their grip around his wrist.

their hand is big, can actually manhandle him.  _him_ , the mighty ol' louis. whoa. haha.

and then he can feel himself being pulled - pulled out of the scene, out of the dancing bodies, away from the dance floor.

"h-hey, where are you..." he tries, feeling so lifeless and pliant, and just...he's like floating. maybe he's dying...fuck. sounds nice, that.

"we're going home, kid," says the person who's dragging him, their direction headed towards the door. kid?

kid???

louis still has the strength to pout at that, frown, and be indignant. petulant. fuck this person, seriously. louis is  _not_ a kid!!!!!! akdbeidkakxneuks :(((((

"'m not a kid...!" he wails brokenly, throat scratchy and achy.

"you look cute when you're mad."

huh.

a heartbeat passes. "whah...?"

there's a giggle. "handsome and rugged. but very much a kid when drunk and angry. tsk."

what are they saying... what...

he blinks, eyelids super fuckin' heavy. why are these so heavy??? why ://

when he feels he's being pushed in some vehicle, louis tries his best to protest, especially when he hears the person rattling some sort of address(?) to the driver.

"what are you - who are you? where are you taking me..."

no answer from the person, who's carding their fingers through louis' hair. that feels...nice.

so nice.

from there, louis sees black.

 


	14. // fourteen catapults: lovely pale pink walls //

**_//i am sober, lying in my bed, recreating you inside my head; you speak softly, resonating in my subconscious, where did we begin//_ **

 

louis wakes up to a yellow sticky note pressed on his nose. he sits up and pries it off, flipping it over.

_i know you'll ask how. mia is my friend's friend, and they contacted me when they saw you going nuts. get up and have some tea. or something. H_

h? louis only knows one h who fortunately won't let him die at a party.

harry styles.

they contacted harry then - why? do they know about him and harry?

okay, for one, when they kiss, louis has always made sure none of their peers saw. just to avoid prying asshats, of course.

not the guys at alleyways know. or so louis thinks at least - but he's sure about that one.

although, thinking about it, louis doesn't really know of harry's friends. perhaps they saw them kissed?

or not. harry ran away twice - and each of those moments, none of harry's friends showed up or even gave louis their cold stare, so.

so louis' last option would be of harry...telling his friends himself about him and louis. hmm.

that's... too good to be true. nah.

freeing himself of thoughts, louis rubs at his eyes and looks around him. so.  _white clean walls, wooden furniture, pastel orange curtains and drawers, white closet, purple rug and some stuffed toys at a shelf with some pocket books_. louis hums. he's probably in harry's room.

the bed is soft, big and white. so far from louis' own from back home - his bed that has mismatched sheets and pillows, creaky and old. he sighs as he spreads his palm over it, feeling good. he feels a little bit close to harry this way. he can even smell harry's scent all over it.

but. louis remembers... he's still mad at harry. that's why he ended up here anyway, right? he drank himself to death, smoked himself to death, because he - no. he shouldn't really blame harry for it. no. it's all louis' fault. his self-entitlement and all his shit.

he shakes his head, gripping on the sheets in anger at himself, looking down on his lap - and that's only then that louis gets a look at his body.

he can see his tattoos. louis' naked. he peers under the covers, and - oh. at least he's still wearing his boxers. he swallows, imagining the happenings last night. he probably threw up... ugh. his throat hurts, like he's vomited his intestines. fuck.

he can also feel his head throbbing now - like someone is actually  _pounding_ hard on his brain. louis wants to detach his head from his neck only if for a day - just until it gets better.

he groans, flopping back down on the pillows.  _they're so soft and heavenly, gosh._ how does harry suppose he'll be able to leave this bed?

**//**

when louis sees his shirt and jeans folded neatly beside the nightstand later, he grabs them and wears them quickly. especially when he's heard movements coming from the outside somewhere.

slipping his shoes on, that he also only sees now under the bed, louis faces the mirror on his left and ruffles his silver hair, sweeping his fringe to the side for good measure.

louis steps out of harry's bedroom, and - oh god. he's met with the smell of frying pancakes and sausages. louis looks from his left to right; he's in a hallway. a clean one at that, with tiles and some lovely pale pink walls. harry styles is such a... such a dreamy guy.

closing the door behind him, louis makes his way to where he thinks is the kitchen. and ah, the harry styles in flesh, finally, wearing an orange apron around his narrow waist.

not making any noises yet, louis takes this opportunity to watch him be himself for now - have a little look in his own, private world. it won't hurt to just...know, anyway.

as he cooks, he's humming under his breath. he's swaying his hips too, curly hair up in a bun. harry looks homey like this -  _cozy_. and given the fact louis' still angry about something... he can't help but be endeared. be enticed.

his heart is beating wildly in his chest, hearing harry's honey syrupy slow voice like this - in the morning. caterpillar that turned into... butterflies are also wriggling in his tummy, and just.

he sighs.

he startles harry. "oh," he gasps. "you're - awake."

louis begs to stay biased. he grunts as he nods, crossing his arms against his chest, leaning against the kitchen door frame.

he starts with, "a stalker and a cheater. what a beautiful combination."

at that, harry's shoulders sag. he sighs, turning back to his pan. "louis, i told you. i don't have a boyfriend." louis sees harry getting a cup from the dispenser, and then pouring some tea in it. he turns around and places the cup filled in front of louis. "and i'm not a stalker unlike some people." he narrows his gaze at louis, brows knotted in concentration. "now, drink up. makes your hangover go away."

he turns back around again and switches the stove off. while harry untangles the apron from his waist, louis takes that time to drink up his tea. it's sweet - not how he takes it. but whatever.

anyway, louis supposes harry's right... but.

but he's still mad at him - still bitter about  _everything_. he glares just as harry finally looks down on him sat on one of the chairs. "you're kidding," he bites.

harry tilts his head to the side, and louis has to lower his gaze in order to avoid seeing the column of harry's pale throat. "louis, look... i'm not -"

"if not then who the fuck was that?" he snaps, he can't stand it - the suspense. "i saw someone kiss you the other day. the day after yesterday when you didn't show up at all, as if you're  _avoiding_ me."

"i was," harry says, nodding.

louis is confused. "you were...what?" he asks, cocking a brow.

"avoiding you," harry says simply, nodding again.

"what," louis gapes. but closes his mouth immediately.

"well," harry breathes, crossing his arms against his chest too, as he leans with his ass against the counter, "you kissed me twice, and i don't even know if i should be allowing you."

"oh," louis frowns, looking down on his cup, "well. it's just a kiss. no one dies being kissed."

"yeah, but you're 11 years younger than me. you didn't even think about whether i'm married or not."

 _what_ _?_ fuck! louis perks up faster than a speeding train. "uh - a-are you?"

harry smirks slyly. "no."

louis sighs in relief, closing his eyes as he leans back. "okay. okay, good." when he opens his eyes, he asks, "so. who was that who kissed you?"

harry shrugs. "my ex."

oh... louis nods. "your ex who is trying to get back with you, i reckon?"

"yeah."

louis presses his lips together, feeling scared as he presses on, "and you're giving him a chance...?"

harry looks up at him, blinks. "i don't really want to talk about this, louis," he says calmly, turning away. louis watches as he fixes his hair again and wears his watch. he glances at louis before he's stepping out of the kitchen. "anyway, i'll be late for my class. just put your cup on the sink when you're done. lock up, yeah?" harry doesn't wait for louis to say anything, he just walks away and he's gone.

**//**

louis skateboards at alleyways first thing when he leaves harry's pretty and clean and reeking of cinnamon and apple pies apartment. then he goes home to halsey and watches porn with her.

after two minutes, he exhales, "this is... this is... this is..."

halsey groans, exasperated, "what!"

"boOoOoring."

"you lil shit," halsey kicks at his thigh.

haha :p

louis stands and goes to his room. he sulks. "i really, really...like,  _really_  fucking like him," he tells no one but himself. he pouts, whimpering in his pillow as he hugs it tightly. he rolls around in his bed, stopping and facing the ceiling. "i think..." he mutters, biting his lip, "i think...i'm gonna go after him... hmm."

**//**

operation: going after styles, day 1.

"hey," louis says, standing outside of the daycare forty-three minutes later. he's showered and changed into some fresh new black tee, some black skinny jeans, and black vans.

harry stares back at him, clutching his shoulder bag and books. "hey," he utters out.

"wanna make out?" louis grins.

if harry's flushing, he's good at being subtle about it. "no," he answers.

louis only smiles, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

 _okay_ , he thinks,  _maybe he'll try tomorrow._

**//**

a rainy wednesday at code red.

louis doesn't need to ask; he knows zayn is listening to melanie martinez. he drums his fingers over the counter.

zayn starts humming. "this is good stuff."

"huh?" louis tilts his head sideways.

zayn points to his ipod excitedly. "this is good stuff!"

louis goes aaahhhhhhh... "cool."

zayn just grins, doesn't care about louis' opinion probably.

louis thinks it's okay. zayn is always weird anyway.

 


	15. // fifteen dreams: local town library //

**_//i've been waiting for the sun to rise where you are, so i can tell you you're a superstar; i've been waiting for our words to be in line, so i can let you know that baby, you're the rest of my life//_ **

 

it's been merely two hours and all louis did during those moments was pick flowers at the playground of the daycare - although not just because he was bored. he's got plans for this... or not. it's nothing too big.

he so far has gathered a few yellowbells, bougainvilleas, and gumamelas - that louis had kept on calling hibiscuses in his head.

when he looks over his shoulder and away the bushes, he sees harry.

"hey." he nods, lips twitching at the sides, doesn't want to come off too giddy.

harry nodded at him, endearing large bear paws clasped together as he stands right there - on the backdoor of the toddlers' classroom. "louis."

louis shoots up from his crouching position and plays with the trunks of the flowers he's picked. he tilts his head to the side as if to indicate studying harry's physics. he hums. "what if i court you, harry styles the tall man..." he starts with sounding wistful, pressing his lips together. cocking a brow, he smirks at harry playfully. "will you let me?"

will harry let him? there's silence. harry doesn't do the whole blushing like he usually does anymore, which, louis thinks that's quite impressive. he's progressing. louis is the shrugging emoji again. nice, nice, yeah, cool. k, fine. lol. as if louis' so affected by that. by the probable fact that harry might or might not actually be into him. psh! he's not, lolllllll -

"okay."

"okay?" louis asks, just to make sure. because like, harry is looking at him like he isn't one hundred percent in it. louis decides that's unlikely - harry likes him back.

and, harry finally nods his confirmation, dimpling.

he's fuCKING DIMPLING. LOUIS IS NOT CRYING, YOU ARE.

(no but srsly, harry's dimples are like, louis' weaknesses, sooo).

louis clears his throat, willing himself not to combust right there and then. "here," he says, extending his hand where he's holding the flowers, "this is my first day of officially courting you then."

harry walks forward and takes them, offering louis a real smile now. "gr8."

okay, so. what's else is in it for louis? how does this courting go anyway?

hmmmmmmmmm.

oh, right.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, grinning big.

harry splutters, cheeks burning pink. (would you look at that! louis missed that harry!) "already?" he gapes, green eyes so bright and big.

louis bites his lip, chuckling awkwardly. "well..."

harry rolls his eyes, sighing, "c'mere, then." louis beams at that, but then - harry readies his cheek.

louis is confused only for a second, before he's frowning and kissing harry there.

what the heck...

"i feel like such a kid," louis grumbles as he takes a step back.

harry giggles, and louis' dick twitches at the fucking cuteness of  _that_. "aren't you?" he teases mildly. HE'S SO FREAKING CUTE WHAT THE FUCK.

quite agitated and sexually frustrated and horny and all kinds of turned on, louis scoffs at harry. " _please_ ," he snarls, but there's no heat behind it, of course there's none - but perhaps a heat of arousal. "i can give you a fucking kid, mr. harry styles. that's how i'm not a kid anymore," he boasts.

and, with no comebacks whatsoever, harry blinks back at him, lips parting slightly, eyes producing those glints.

what...louis almost forgot about those, it's been so long. louis deems harry rather looks stunned, however.

none of them say anything beyond that, and louis is accompanying harry to the bakery right after, their arms brushing as they walk.

**//**

zayn is weird, says louis' left functioning brain.

"i wonder what's wrong with him though," louis is saying, counting the money from the till.

he thinks harry surely has a problem that's been becoming quite a huge burden to his sanity, but. the question is, what is it?

"with who?"  _harry_ _._

"with you," he tells zayn, chancing him a short glance.

zayn stares at him, unblinking and unmoving. louis momentarily feels terrified he might've crossed a line. but then zayn is shrugging as he confesses, "i ask myself that everyday."

and, oh. okay. "ditto."

zayn sighs, returning back to his comics, "you know, lou. i love you. but sometimes you're being harsh."

"i know. i'm sorry," louis mumbles guiltily.

"and?" zayn raises an eyebrow, shutting his comics as he looks at louis once more.

louis giggles. "fucking hell. fine. i love you too."

"good, i know you do." zayn smiles, goes back to reading comics.

**//**

going home to his apartment that he shares with halsey, lately, is becoming quite a hardship for louis' part and convenience. because apparently, his best friend seems like she's having her fucking trimester rut, and so therefore the place is always so, so disgusting and reeking of freshly released sEMEN.

some heterosexual actions. or bisexual. whatever.

even without checking, by the sounds of it, halsey is having a threesome with some girl and some  _boy_. louis face-palms, because nooo. it's always better when his best mate is doing the do with a girl, but when a boy is involved, louis just gets so queasy...

he lies on his bed, ready to sleep. they wouldn't muffle their moans though, so it's half past ten and louis' still wide awake and ready to kill some rabbits.

he pounds on the wall next to halsey's room. "oi, oi, motherfuckers! quiet down!"

"oh, yeah, f-fuck - ah!"

louis groans on his pillow, some girl's obnoxious moaning ringing through the humid air. guess it'll be a long fucking night for louis then.

**//**

friday, a rainy day. again.

if he's quite honest with himself, rainy days are just his true enemies. or - no, actually, rainy days are the likes of his' enemies.

skaters just can't with the downpour.

so instead of spending his late hours at alleyways after a shift at work, louis' gone by the daycare instead, fetched harry, and brought him here at the local town library.

of course, as per usual, harry is quite hesitant. he's been gripping louis' hand tightly, clinging onto his every instruction, of whether or not he should turn left or turn right with him. basically, a child who's lost their parents at a mall.

just, he's a hopeless, hopeless bird and louis is genuinely enamored, enjoying every second of holding harry's soft, big hand, squeezing gently and lapping their palms from beneath each other's boldly, fingers slotting together and fitting perfectly, slowly but surely.

louis' heart throughout it has kept on crawling up his throat to stay there, keep him in his toes. he's sweating with harry's burning sex appeal and he just can't breathe with the intoxicating affect of it on him...

and harry's sweet angelic scent that's filling his nose is just making it the more exhilarating on louis' end.

"we're here," louis states softly once they've finally made it at the secluded place within the spacious and very public library louis has always found himself reading his chosen books, just when he's in the right mood.

he tugs on harry's soft skinned hand and pulls him down with him, to which harry easily and rather submissively complies for, and now they're facing each other while indian sitting on the carpeted floor.

green bambi eyes darting toward various directions, louis watches as the beauty right in front of him drink in the place around him. louis patiently waits until everything has sunk for him, biting the inside of his cheek.

and then harry's eyes at last drop to him. "so, why did you bring me here again?" harry asks, hands fiddling the hem of his oversized orange sweater, this ridiculously cute piece of wool that's dwarfing him adorably. louis can't help sniff his surge of arousal at the  _sight_  of harry as of the mo, because ugh.

"to know more about each other," louis eventually answers, simple and clear.

harry purses his lips, licks them, pops them. louis is so having a semi before this even starts...ughuhunftfrd. "mmhmm. okay."

"okay," louis says, "i'll start. favorite color?"

"seriously?" harry guffaws, and fuuuuck, he's dimpling again. ughughughughugh.

alright.  _focus_.

louis narrows his gaze at harry. harry slowly deflates.

"fine," harry grumbles, and his cheeks turn pink. "uh... orange."

orange.

fucking seriOUSLY. HE'S THE MOST PERFECT HUMAN BEING <3

a sniff. louis nods. "k. your turn."

"fave band?" harry prompts, voice syrupy slow.

louis smirks at harry. "flyleaf. you?"

harry's lips form an  _o_. he must like flyleaf too. "nice, lou. mine is p! atd."

"oh, cool," louis chirps, grinning at harry. then he hums. "uhm. fave thing to do?"

harry shrugs. "a lot."

louis raises a brow. "i have all day, harry. try me."

harry giggles. louis is so tempted to cup his face and kiss him senseless. "uhm. bonding with my kids, i guess... baking pastries. listening to songs. cuddling... there. how about you?"

cuddling. baking. bonding with the kids.

jesus christ. is harry applying for the housewife role here? because louis is definitely up for the daddy role, if so. the one who worked hours on end and then going home to his wife later at night and be pampered by them. if that becomes a reality between he and harry someday, then okay, wow.

what an...interesting image.

very... _very_ interesting.

another sniff.

"talking to you," louis responds meekly.

and there is silence. blue versus green.

harry clears his throat. "i... anyway -"

"wait, are you blushing?" louis scoots closer, wanting so bad to reach out to hold harry's lovely hands.

those lovely hands that are curling in shyly on themselves on harry's lap.

"no," harry whispers, looking down, and - shit. could this be... oh, fuck, yes. this is louis' harry. THIS. this is his harry styles who blushes madly and cowers submissively, constantly bashful and flustered. louis' beautiful flower.

louis missed this kind of harry. he really did.

"you are, babe." louis smiles fondly. and he swallows, his smile fading away. he blinks at harry, slowly, and he breathes out, can't help it anymore... "can i kiss you?"

harry looks up at that, cheeks so red louis aches to sooth down his shyness, tell him  _it's okay, baby, it's okay. i've_ _got you, you're perfect. you're always so perfect, harry styles_. "louis... i thought you - you said you wanna court me, like, properly?"

"yeah, but -"

"c-courting doesn't involve - it does  _not_ particularly involve kissing."

louis pouts.

harry sighs v-e-r-y loudly.

**//**

they end up making out for hours on end at the farthest corner of the library.

louis doesn't get to touch harry that much, no kneading of pert ass while hungrily kissing, but at least louis gets to fuck his mouth with his tongue for a loooong, long while, exchanging saliva and shiz, and that's good enough for louis. :'D

he goes home with harry.

 


	16. // sixteen constellations: beneath these sheets //

**_//in the dead of night i'll meet you in my sleep, and in the morning light you'll wake up next to me; like a dream come true i'll take you where i roam, then follow you back home//_ **

 

wind washes through the window and hangs in the air like bubbling water, filling in harry's clean, zen, and pretty room, accompanying them and hugging their clothed bodies just like they do each other.

harry and louis are snuggled underneath the covers, legs and thighs tangled together, limbs wrapped around waists, louis' inked arm starked against harry's pale one. their eyes lock, and momentarily louis remembers the times he used to only dream about those sad green eyes, glints of sorrows, with gold speckles in them.

he truly kinda misses them - the dreams. those cryptic, malevolent dreams of someone with serious struggles in, perhaps their life - and has got some mysterious aura that's cloaking them as a whole. the probable fact they were fighting their demons, some tragic past that ruined them altogether.

louis misses his dreams about that green eyed sad boy. that sad boy that he'd wanted to help and protect and pour his affections with.  _kiss them..._ _?_

although, louis must admit that this is a whole lot better - the reality. the reality of him actually cuddling that man that he only ever dreamed about before, quite unreachable and always vanishing in thin air at times he was so ready to touch him, seek out and be a peer, resolve their...problems for them, kill their inner demons and fight for them. that man that now, louis is in right knowledge for, regarding what their lips actually taste like, even so.

because they've been kissing ever since the library incident, right, unlike when harry had been hesitant and dodging - when he ran constantly - and even now, they fail to stop.

"i hate you," says harry against louis' lingering lips.

"why," louis husks, hand traveling up from harry's waist to his cheek, fingers pressing lightly on harry's cheek, poking to make his dimple appear. it won't; he's frowning.

"you're not doing the whole courting right," harry says, sounding a little frustrated, causing louis to lean in and peck his lips - to wipe that stress off. harry only huffs though when he pulls back, and louis can't help break into a sly grin, eyes hazy, harry's eyebrows furrowing on him.

"well, maybe because you're the only one i've ever courted in me life so i've no idea," louis says honestly, snickering at the gaping of one harry styles. and, what does harry think of him anyway? he's not the romantic type for crying out loud. hahahaha. louis gave harry fucking flowers! but fuck, that was louis' first time to give someone flowers! harry is practically serving as louis' new firsts!

hearing his snickers, harry pouts at him. "i hate you," he mumbles, quite petulant. seriously though, who's the "kid" here now?

louis almost shakes his head, the smug never ceasing from his face.

he leans in and captures harry's plump lips with his thin ones, harry bodily melting with it. "and i adore you," he replies softly.

**//**

they change positions. they're really not in the mood to move nor to be in other places today - they're not even taking bathroom breaks, haven't taken their baths yet, and all they've done so far were take their clothes off. just the uncomfortable ones - their jeans, harry's sweater and louis' hoodie.

shifting in bed turning around, harry has louis wrapping his arms around him from behind, his chest pressed flushed against harry's lean back, their body temperatures radiating from them and swirling within the area, mixing together and keeping them level headed.

louis plays the big spoon happily.

it's quiet for a couple of minutes, harry's fingers interlocking with louis' littler ones, hands slotting together perfectly. louis sighs contentedly.

harry follows that with his very own sigh - sigh of contemplation. "to be honest though," he begins, voice deep and monotonous, like he's wondering, talking to the wall beside the bed. but really, he's directing his every word to louis - it sounds so bold despite distinct. "i... shouldn't be even, like, letting you court me. it's a slap to my solidarity."

louis hums, thumb playing with harry's skin, pad smoothing against fine bony hand. "what do you mean?" he asks, kissing harry on his nape, nose brushing against curls.

harry sighs, wistful. "i mean, like, i've sworn to myself... i'll never let another person into my life again."

"oh," louis breathes, "cool," his mouth says, kissing harry again. his mind isn't here with him he knows, but - thing is, he just can't take that statement seriously. like, who even does that? swearing to themselves in regards to not falling for anyone ever again?

like? :o

harry cranes his neck sideways, facing louis a little, making louis push up to his elbow and meet harry properly. their lips linger close to each other, harry closing his eyes in the process. louis keeps his open, staring at the richness of harry's own eyelashes.

harry murmurs, almost seeming like questioning, but in a rather playful, ridiculed manner, "how come... your lips are always so soft."

"yeah?" louis exhales, looking down on harry.

harry nods his confirmation, dimpling. "yeah."

louis kisses him again.

"but," harry says, biting on louis' lower lip, "you're not listening again."

louis narrows his eyes at him. "i'm not? harry, i'm totally listening."

"you're not." harry sighs. "i just literally said i've made a promise to myself that i'll never love again, and you didn't even react whatsoever."

louis blinks at him, because  _wait a minute_ _._ "you love me?"

he sees harry swallow down. but then he deadpans, eyes stern, "louis."

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," louis shakes his head; too early, he thinks.  _wishful thinking, fuck_ _._ "right, uhm. but like, why would you promise such thing, harry? that's...quite impossible, right? you can't fight love."  _cause that's proven and tested - i can justify that now..._

harry's eyes flit back up the ceiling, eyelashes casting upwards with the movement. and, he really looks so, so beautiful - so young for his age. harry and louis will look good together, louis just knows it.

"i know..." harry says, bringing louis back to the present time, "but i thought i'd try. and the thing is -," harry looks at him again, "- you're making it difficult for me."

what - really? shit,  _and there goes those fireworks in his tummy._

"am i? am i really?" louis asks dumbly, completely floored. he can feel his cheeks  _burning_ _._

"yes, lou."

 _lou_. LOU.

"then that - that means i have a chance with you, right?" louis rushes to say, voice shaky with both hope and excitement.

he catches harry rolling his eyes, "obviously," he says around a sigh, gesturing to their positions in bed. louis' ears start burning as well. "but..."

"but?" louis quips in. "harry, i - okay, i don't understand. why would you... why would you swear such thing again?"

releasing yet another breath, harry purses lips and looks away. he admits softly, "let's just say, i bet you'll do the same if you lost the only one you've ever dreamed of spending the rest of your life with."

and - what?

what does that supposed to mean...?

"i... harry, you - you -" louis swallows hard. was harry married? has he yet to move on from that?

louis' heart rabbits uncontrollably in his chest, the image of that man who has kissed harry all those days ago flashing scene by scene and momentum at the back of his mind.

fuck.

fuck. fuck. fuck, fuck, harry was still into someone else, louis knew it, he knew it, fuck, shit, fuuu -

"louis. whatever your pretty little head is thinking, that's not it," harry interrupts the chaos that's quickly happening in his head, and then - "they died, louis. they never even saw me. i never held them either... and that. that's the saddest part. they were all i wanted, and now they're gone. nothing else really mattered at the time."

huh.

"ha... harry, what are you saying, babe? i can't... i don't understand..."

harry hiccups, and his voice starts changing. it becomes raw, bare and small. vulnerable. it quivers in hitches. "i lost my baby, louis. m-miscarriage."

and just like that, everything dawns on louis. everything.

miscarriage, echoes in his head. over and over - repeatedly, endless.

_miscarriage_ _._

harry was pregnant. and the baby died.

no.

no.

that's...

_no..._

harry sobs softly, croaking his words out. louis holds him close...closer...closer. he hugs him tight. "it was because of stress, the doctor said. daryl, he - he cheated on me, and that was when i lost the baby."

louis feels rage at the mention of someone's name - and he's quite certain he hasn't felt this much hatred in his life before.

louis fucking hates cheaters. he's said this a million times now, hasn't he?

nothing could happen yet - louis doesn't know the guy. but for future reference, louis' always fucking ready for brawls.

for now, harry can have all of him - his time, his heart, his love. anything he so wishes to have. louis will give his all.

"harry. babe. i'm so sorry about them," louis says. "really, i am." tightening his hold on harry, louis scoots and hovers over him, caging harry in bed and keeping him underneath his own body. harry looks up to him with his eyes so bright and glassy - devastated and young and soft.

small.

louis decides harry might as well can have him forever.

**//**

they've gone out and eaten at pizza hut. nothing else happened after that.

well, except for them coming back at harry's apartment, and then going straight in his lovely bedroom, beneath these sheets again - these white sheets that keep them anchored, keep them close and tight. louis loves it here.

he also loves ha-

"i want to learn how to cycle."

"really? like, how to ride a bicycle?" louis asks almost instantly, breathless with his heart beating so hard in his chest.

he almost said he... fuck. no. no. too early for that, no.

"yes." harry sighs dreamily. wait, what are they talking about again?

bicycles, right.

"well, i - i can teach you." louis chuckles weakly, cheeks hot.

"of course you can. you're my skater boy," harry says, and he sounds so fond about it. louis will probably melt before the day can even end.

"i am?"

looking at him, ridiculed, harry raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms against his chest. "what's it with you and that certain self-reassurance, seriously? i just told you, why the need to ask if it's?"

uh, he's got a point but. "yeah, i know, just. harry, look. i... thing is - i still can't believe we're doing this, okay? see... you're incredible, and i'm here with you instead of anyone who's so much better than me, so -"

"lou, please. you're the most amazing guy i've met."

and, louis just - he can never follow rules.

so he has to: "i am?"

harry giggles. "you're such hopeless, hopeless kid."

"told you i'm not a -"

"hey, hey, i know, shh." harry cups his face, squishing his cheeks.

louis frowns, heart aching in his chest. he swallows. "i can give you a kid, harry styles," he whispers against their lips.

harry closes his eyes, obviously avoiding tearing up. "i know, lou, i know..."

 


	17. // seventeen parchments: 6 feet high window //

**_//since we found out that we're invincible, we've been living in a dream world; since we decided to be infinite, there's no ending and there's no fear; i was filled, you made my bones still, your eyes well with tears, we're alive, my dear//_ **

 

so. this is a saturday morning, probably around 7? louis doesn't know; he rarely cares, remember?

anyway~~~

it's not like he's done it before, because he has never, but when he gets there - where he needs to be - he sees him (harry. who else? niall? he's not yet included in this book. sshh) and it's probably one of the hottest thing ever.

louis has dyed his hair metallic blue again, just for the heck of it (aka because he knows how good he looks with it) - halsey did it for him, because god forbid louis'd know shite about dyeing and all that styling bullcrap - and the moment he's opened his eyes this morning, he looks at the time and scrambles up to get ready.

he hasn't a shift at work, but his mind is set to get out of the apartment early, just to see whom he's been anticipating to see even if he's just been with him all day yesterday.

it's his, well, uhm... his boyfriend.

ha. feels so fucking great to treat it that way now, huhhhh - for louis to be able to call harry boyfriend now rather than just any else.

harry is louis' boyfriend now, folks.

harry styles, that beautiful 34 year-old daycare teacher with the lovely dimples, mesmerizing green eyes, luscious curly long hair, endless slim legs, pretty cute bum and deliciously red plump lips (that taste so good, so be jealous), is louis tomlinson's boyfriend now. how fantastic is that?

answer: very.

he was once louis' fantasy, that's why, and now he's not just that anymore - but is also his to care for.

louis is the luckiest fatherfucker, eh?

(get it? because he's not straight. or bi. or. whatever.)

anyway.

as louis finishes readying himself for a day with his BOYFRIEND (haha. fuck, louis LOVES IT. HE IS SO, SO PROUD OF IT. HE IS ALSO STILL SO OVERWHELMED EACH TIME, LIKEEEE. HE STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT), he hits the road bringing ted with him, skating his way over the other side of the outskirts where harry lives, that now louis is also aware of.

he's memorized the route quite already, yep. because againnnnn, harry now is his boyfie. (be jelly).

louis sighs, dreamily so, at the memory of harry finally condemning them official.

ok, story time:

it was a stormy day then - they were in harry's kitchen. while harry was washing their used plates after a satisfying dinner hosted by harry himself, louis was just sat by the counter munching on an apple happily (looking like peter pan, pretty much), swaying his legs that were dangling by three inches from the ground because, well. he was too...(ugh) short.

(smol louis, like zayn and halsey would say).

so anYWAY, ENOUGH WITH THAT, IT'S GETTING OLD ANYWAYYY. harry was being quiet then, as though he was thinking deeply, and louis had kept on telling these weird stories - while they passed time - about his experiences with looking for a job from various companies (because apparently, being a punk-ish person and having lots of tattoos, while sporting facial - and body - piercings, turn HRs off into objecting your resume altogether, despite you've finished high school and that you're qualified enough to do a certain work), when suddenly, harry opened his mouth, and...

"louis." it was a deep and slow drawl - the hot kind. the one that makes louis shiver in earnest and wanton.

louis snapped his mouth shut almost right away, whipping his head sideways to glance at harry. "hm? yes, h?"

harry coughed - he had coughed - cheeks going pink tenfold, and - "let's be...uhm. boyfriends, lou. i'm... i mean, i'm saying yes to your 'courting'," he said slyly, looking down, eyelashes casting downwards with his motion.

it was like... so out of the blue, you know? so random, so...wow.

so what happened was,

to say the least, and for probably the first time in his life, louis went completely, utterly, and indisputably speechless. like, actual fish out of water and gasping for air kind of speechless, and - well...

louis being louis: he had jumped off the counter after a few moments of regaining back his usual vocal power house composure, and he walked toward harry with a frantic heart, wrapped his arms around harry's small waist, and...he just hugged him from behind. no words were exchanged for a good three minutes between them.

it was...a nice silence.

their breathings were heard over the taciturnity of the area, the running water through the faucet diminishing as harry turned it off while he leaned back to louis' hold, and harry's head lolled to the side where louis had his temple rested against thd side of his face.

it was a precious moment for louis' end. quite, quite, quite.

so harry now is his boyfriend.

but like - they also kissed that day, just to clarify. because like, kissing, with them, is a very common thing, so. they kiss at every chance they get. their lips are like, each other's anchor. or whatever. something along those lines, so there's that.

back to the present: louis now is standing in front of harry's apartment building, which only has five floors - harry occupies a room on the third floor - and they're looking at each other from where they both stand. breath held, posture languid but relaxed, eyes burning and electrifying, contact a steady line and won't let distraction break it, lips twitching at the corners.

sexual tension on full run...

harry's by the window, has stopped five minutes ago when he's taken notice of louis' presence on the pavement, and the hot thing that louis is actually pertaining to is the fact that harry's being a right tease right about now.

who would've known, that with just three days into this relationship, louis will already need an ambulance or two if ever his heart (and libido, if that's even possible) explodes. because harry - harry the fucking nympho that he actually is - is fully naked and is standing right there on his 6 feet high window with his entirety exposed, only for louis and louis alone to salivate on.

fuck.

he's also smiling seductively at louis - almost bordering on endearing in spite of himself - and he's - oh god.

harry is pinching his... _jesus christ_. his nipples in a slow pace as he bites on his lower lip, hard, just to lick it right after.

louis gulps, already straining in his black tight skinny jeans, hasn't felt this much wanton in his life at all. not even with his exes, which includes zayn. not even matty fucking healy when they hooked up last summer.

harry is - he's very different. he has has this aura that's revolving around him that has louis by the core. it's like... he's gripping louis' cock just by existing. yeah, that. or - or perhaps groping louis' balls just by smirking seductively at him.

it's crazy.

louis fuckin' loves it.

tilting his head sideways, louis takes a drag of his smoke and watches intensely as harry starts pumping on his dick. louis shifts his gaze from his left to right, wanting to make sure no one's enjoying the view except for him, and when he sees that the coast is clear, he returns his attention back to harry and licks his lips - he wants harry to know he's going to actually  _do_ something, after this tease show that harry is pulling. because fuck it. just, fuck it if louis didn't comply and bone harry once he gets up there.

done with his stick, louis flicks it off to the ground and adjusts ted in his arm, harry by the window finally signalling him to come up.

true to his gestures, harry does ring louis up and louis retaliates by using the stairs rather than the slow as fuck elevator - because he can't fuckin' wait any longer, shit - taking two steps at a time.

barging in through harry's apartment door, with no finesse whatsoever, dropping ted somewhere, he doesn't give a fuck anymore, louis kicks at the handle and lets the door slam shut with a loud bang, and then he jumps his lovely, pretty harry who's not-so-miraculously already waiting for him by the entryway with the smuggest, shit eating grin across his face.

from there, they make out. harry is already naked, to which louis is super thankful for, because his libido is like, having a fucking meltdown right this second, so his hands' first instinct is to grab on harry's ass and  _knead at them_ while he fucks harry's mouth with the use of his expert, fast tongue. oh yeah, harry's so gonna get it today. morning sex is always the best.

breathing ragged, lips swollen and so, so pink from so much nipping and sucking, harry pulls away for a moment to smile at louis and greet him in an exhale, "hi, babe."

louis hums in acknowledgement before he's tiptoeing again to capture harry's mouth, to which harry accommodates him for, his arms snaked around louis' neck, pulling them together closer, flusher and tighter.

harry's lips, as usual, taste revolutionary. they're like, perfection, yeah? and louis is addicted to him - his everything.

 _harry is louis' baby_.

"i think i'm gon' keep you," louis says in between pants, pulling away from the passionate and hurried kiss, lips numbing from harry's biting. harry moans in appreciation, continually kissing louis along his throat and neck and the underside of his stubbly jaw. (he forgot to shave this morning, too excited to see hiS BABY).

"yeah?" harry says breathlessly, shakily, grinding against louis' jeans clad crotch. mmm, must've hurt. harry's completely bare, and he's just.so.SOFT.

"yeah," louis confirms, hands travelling up from harry's perky butt to his lean, smooth back, and until his fingers reach harry's curly locks. they tangle through them, and then louis' gripping quite hard -  _pulling_ _._

harry moans in response. "fuck..." he exhales lowly.

"tell me what you want, baby," louis whispers darkly, lustful and super horny now to even deny it.

heaving hard, head tilted back as louis keeps his hands on his curls, harry breathes out, cheeks to his throat all red and flushed, "want you to eat my pussy out."

and.

what.

pussy?

grip loosening just a tad, louis backs away a little to regard harry with a narrowed, bemused look. "excuse me, babe?"

harry, slowly regaining back his composure, probably coming down from his temporary subspace, cheeks still blooming so gorgeously as ever, looks back at louis with his...shy eyes. and then he's mocking coughing in his fist, saying something unintelligible that louis doesn't catch.

he has to hold harry on his arms to make him a bit more comfortable to speak with. "baby, tell me. what is it?" he coaxes lightly, voice soft and laced with genuine concern. he maybe is in too deep already. like, neck deep.

"i said," harry says - or rather murmurs shyly, "i have this really weird kink where i... i..."

"yes?" louis presses softly, heart tugging hard in his chest, "c'mon, my baby harry. it's okay, tell me. i mean - it couldn't be that bad, yea?" he can feel his own cheeks redden, thinking about the fact that he even has to reassure harry with these, "like, i've probably seen worse, y'know?"

nodding slowly, like he isn't sure and still seeming doubtful at most, harry opens his mouth to speak, and when he does, louis' almost lost it.

"i have a feminization kink, louis. i... i get off to my partner calling my asshole pussy."

and, oh. oH.

"oh."

"yeah..." harry sighs, slapping a hand on his forehead, before running it down his face. he turns around, away from louis' reach - louis who is still agape and blinking dazedly at harry, doesn't know how to feel or how to react to this newly unlocked information about the guy he's so fucking crazy for. "i've probably... i've probably freaked you out now. which, shit." he groans weakly in frustration, and - no, just. louis can't have that. no.

"harry, baby, i -" louis stresses, reaching out. "it's fine, yeah? it's fine. you didn't creep me out at all, darling. it's just that -"

"just what?" harry says, whipping back around to face him. he's covering half of his body now, arms wrapped defensively around his waist, and louis just- can't- handle- seeing- him- like- this. UGH.

"it's a bit  _new_ for me, alright?" louis exclaims in terms of insisting quickly, can't quite help himself, sighing loudly, frustrated now as well. "just that, baby, okay? c'mon, just. let's go back to being horny, please? can we just - i don't know, like -," he gestures wildly with his hands, throwing them around and stomping his foot once, "just let me kiss you again. please."

and, harry sags. he sags, and he goes pliant the very moment louis walks towards him and pulls him in his arms. "i'm so weird," harry mumbles against louis' shoulder when he lets louis secure him firmly against him.

louis brushes a hand across the back of his head, hushing him gently. "no, stop it, harry. you're not weird, babe. and even if you are, you're my beautiful weirdo - the rest can just go fuck themselves, yeh? i've got you."

harry sniffs. he doesn't respond to louis' preaching. louis thinks that's okay. "and besides, your kink..." with the mention of this, harry visibly stiffens in his arms - louis goes to rub soothing circles on his back. "easy, darlin'. i'm just gonna say that... i like it, i think. like, i can go along with it for sure. anything that is you, harry - anything, everything you do is hot. so."

harry leans back, taking a look at louis. "you really think so?" he asks, almost obviously preening. "you think everything i do is hot, lou?"

cheeks heating up out of the damn sudden, like he's back in high school and is being winked at by his crush, louis splutters just a bit before he's nodding oddly frantically, "y-yes." he even stammered. greAT. FUCKING GR8.

breaking into the far most breathtakingly striking smile ever, harry releases a tiny yet high-pitched squeal at the back of his throat and hops up as he latches on louis' shoulders, enveloping him in a big bear hug.

"best boyfriend ever!" he chirps happily, giggling non-stop after that.

louis can only grin like a lovesick dork.

**//**

so louis rims harry. for the first time.

he calls harry's asshole pussy, eats him out so good and slick and hungrily. and it's...well, it's still a bit strange to have louis calling it that - the part where he's moaning in satisfaction while he tells harry adoringly, obscenely,  _your pussy is so wet for me, baby, i love it, i love this, i love your clit and cunts, want you to squirt all over my face_ _._

hahahaha.

but fuck, though - he must admit it's also so, so hot.

harry tastes good, see - which, louis' expected as much. just one look at harry and louis can already tell he'll be so worth a jaw ache lol.

harry tastes all kinds of flavors louis has always preferred for someone to taste like when he eats someone out, so like... this is such a massive bonus. a natural jackpot.

harry is just...he's freaking perfect, okay? like wtf.

louis is so fucking lucky. so, so fucking lucky for having someone so pretty as his boyfriend, harry, one who embodies a true submissive that louis' inner dominant alpha wolf would appreciate so freaking much, and is effortlessly playing the role of a hot, tall temptress that might just grant louis' every goddamn wish.

uuuhhhnghghngnnnghh. gotta focus on this  _pussy_ _._

**//**

"i got signed," halsey says four hours later. louis is back in their apartment, blue hair a fat mess atop his hair, his glasses on, and slouched on the couch as he taps on his phone incessantly.

he and harry are texting. harry's ass' taste is still lingering in his tongue and senses, and - yep, his dick is going hard again.

"got signed where?" louis finally replies to halsey's statement, although he doesn't look up from his phone.

harry: i miss you already, lou :(((( xxx

louis: aww, baby :( me too !! but don't worry, we'll see each other tomorrow xx

"oh, you know," halsey says, sounding too nonchalant for louis' taste, "in that...music label i've been telling you about."

"oh," louis hums. "cool."

"yeah."

"good on you, bish. congrats."

"thanks, dick."

**//**

he purses his lips as he looks up at the ceiling, arms folded from behind his head serving as pillows, breathing erratic yet slow paced. "hals," he murmurs lowly, husky voice breaking through the quiet.

"yup?"

he swallows.

"uhm. would you find it weird if your boyfriend calls their asshole pussy?"

there is silence.

halsey answers after a five seconds delay.

"no...?" she says slowly. and then, "i think i'd find it hot, louis."

he bites on his lip, feeling himself blushing again as he keeps himself from smiling too big, because...

because SAME.

"okay," he squeaks out very, very, very softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'll stop here for a while.  
> let me know what you think about this story :)


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